


Ascend

by TheThirteenthHour



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Nuzlocke Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 45,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirteenthHour/pseuds/TheThirteenthHour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows he has felt loss before, he knows he has felt it on this journey, and he knows he has climbed this tower before. He just knows. But how? When? And why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Floor One | 1.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an old work, and the first third of the story is a little rough. But this story got a lot of love on a forum, so I wanted to share it with as many people as I could. I hope you enjoy it!

When Ethan wakes, the man is standing there.

He’s tall, but he can’t be much more than a few years older than Ethan. Curiously enough, he’s standing about a foot away, but he’s staring into the distance with those gray eyes. He’s not looking down at Ethan.

Ethan isn’t sure why he doesn’t speak up the moment he sees the man. Instead, he stays there in the sunlight, lying on the grassy plain, feeling the blades tickle his bare neck and arms, watching the wind blow through the other man’s hair. He wonders why he hasn’t cut it.

The man’s image flickers, and suddenly he’s looking down at Ethan. His eyes remind him of dusty chrome, of grimy kitchen sinks and clouded chain-link fences. It is now that Ethan realizes they know each other, in both name and appearance, though he has never met the man before. 

“You are awake,” the man says. He offers Ethan his hand, but Ethan disregards it. He picks himself off the ground and brushes the dirt from his pants.

“Who are you?”

The man bows politely. “You may call me Silver. That is the name our superior has given me.” The man’s name is unfamiliar, but the mention of a superior is what perplexes Ethan. Yet, he makes no attempt to say anything. Silver continues, “He sent me to find you.”

Ethan furrows his eyebrows, wondering if maybe he should just walk away. But instead, he asks, “Why? Who is he? And who exactly are you?”

Silver shakes his head. “I can not tell you that. You are not ready. And I will not allow you to sully his name with your dirty lips.”

“What?”

“Also, I have already told you my name. You may consider me his messenger, if you so wish. He has asked me to set you on your path, just as I have with many others before you. And you, like the others, shall begin with this.” Silver holds out his fist and unfurls it to present to him a red and white orb. “This is yours.”

Ethan stares at the man for a moment, searching his eyes for some sign of malice, for some reason to turn tail and run back home, wherever that may be tonight. But there’s nothing. His eyes are old, filled with something otherworldly that Ethan can’t fully grasp. They are quiet, dull, jaded from time. He wonders again who this man really is.

Ethan takes the orb in his hand. Examining it further, he’s sure he has seen it before. But the memory is foggy, hidden in the folds of his consciousness like he has only seen it in his dreams. Somehow he knows what rests inside the ball.

He presses the button, enlarging the orb, and it opens in his hand. Watching the red beam shoot forth is a moment of haunting déjà vu. He _has_ seen it before, even creatures like the one sitting before him, ones that only appear from that flash of bloody light.

And for a moment, it fills his heart with fear.

“A Chikorita,” Silver says, looking down at the Grass-type with no sign of contempt, cheer, or surprise. “He must think highly of you.”

Ethan looks down at Chikorita’s patiently smiling face, knowing that the road will be more difficult with her than with any other. He cautiously bends down to pick her up in his arms, noting that she smells of Arcanine lilies and roses. She coos happily and snuggles into his chest when he stands. Ethan can’t help but smile a little.

He looks up at Silver. “I don’t understand.”

“There are others with creatures like yours,” he explains. “They guard the steps that you must climb to reach our superior, and they will test you when you meet them. You must prove your worth to them if you are to proceed. Understand?”

“I think so.”

“Very well then, Gold. I will see you soon enough.”

Ethan wonders why he called him Gold, but before he can ask, Silver flickers again and he’s gone in a second.


	2. Floor One | 1.2

Ethan isn’t sure how exactly he found Falkner. He just knows that he did. Much like how he knows that a Hoothoot, a Spinarak, a Geodude, a Rattata, a Zubat, and a Gastly joined him – he just doesn’t know how or when they did.

Falkner isn’t at all what Ethan expected him to be, yet he’s exactly how he remembers: the same blue hair, the same blue eyes, the same blue clothes. He’s even living in the same aviary as he remembers. But he doesn’t remember ever meeting Falkner. Why does he know who he is?

Falkner takes the time to show him around his home. It reminds him of a temple. There are no walls, just columns that hold a roof many stories above their heads. The birds soar above them, stirring the currents of air and leaving feathers in their wake. A Pidgeotto flies down and perches himself on Falkner’s arm. Falkner runs a hand through his crest. Soon he turns to Ethan and asks, “Are you ready for your test?”

Somehow, Ethan knows what to do. He calls forth his Geodude just as a Pidgey zooms past and veers around, heading straight for Geodude. Pidgeotto lifts off from Falkner’s arm and follows, already anticipating a command.

“Mud-Slap!” Falkner shouts.

Both birds dive low to the ground and sweep the dirt with their wings, shoveling soil into Geodude’s eyes.

Without thinking – he hardly even remembers making the order – Ethan calls for a Rock Throw. His Geodude slams his fists into the earth, shaking loose clumps of dirt and rock. He grabs them and flings, hitting the birds square in the face and wings and grounding them for good.

Falkner flickers. And he smiles. It isn’t at all the reaction Ethan expected, especially when his birds are hideously disfigured, bleeding to death, and gasping for the last breaths of their lives.

Falkner steps forward and claps Ethan on the shoulder, and Ethan can’t remember what immediately happened after that.

When he wakes, he’s lying on the grass once more, this time in a forest. The name Bugsy comes to mind, and Ethan knows who he is despite never having met him.


	3. Floor Two

A Wooper and a Slowpoke join him on his search for Bugsy. They wander out from the trees and trail behind him. Ethan wonders how and why they’re in the middle of a forest, but he disregards it when a Metapod and Kakuna drop down from the canopy, suspended on thin strands of white silk, hanging just inches from his face. Ethan jumps back and yells for his Geodude, who grips them with enough force to make their crystalline bodies pop and shatter – nothing more than shards of yellow and green.

The sound reminds Ethan of falling wine glasses.

Purple drops down from the leaves. It’s the hair of an angry boy who pouts and frowns and makes faces at Ethan.

Ethan recognizes him as Bugsy. He knows, but not how or why. Ethan tries to explain, but the boy’s Scyther appears and slashes at him from behind, knocking Ethan down to the floor. He lies there, stunned, with his face in the moist dirt. It smells humid and rich, and for a while all he can think of is a playground. The metallic scent of swings and jungle gyms consumes his senses before the wound starts burning and stinging and he hisses. He tries to stand, but the pain spikes, and he drops himself on the ground.

Bugsy yells an order – Fury Cutter, Ethan thinks, but it’s hard to hear through the blood pounding in his ear. It’s fear again. Now he knows why he was scared when he first picked up his Chikorita. Blood and death are imminent. He knows he has felt loss before, he knows he has felt it on this journey, and he knows he has climbed this tower before. He just knows. But how? When? And why?

He glances back, expecting the insect’s scythes to meet his eye, but Geodude takes the brunt of the attack and soon tackles the Scyther to the ground. The earth again becomes his weapon. Ethan looks away, but he still hears the sickening crack of the Scyther’s exoskeleton.

Unlike Falkner, Bugsy’s face is filled contempt and disappointment. The boy scoffs, and when he flickers, he’s rolling his eyes. “The same trick again?” he mutters.

Again, Ethan tries to stand, but his back hurts more, burns more, and he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would divert his focus from the pain. When he opens them again, all he sees is concrete.


	4. Floor Three

He lies there on the sidewalk in the light of the setting sun, eyes flitting about to get a look at his surroundings. The ground is rough beneath his hands, and it nearly scrapes his chin each time he turns his head. Even that burns, and it reminds him of his back. Bayleef, who is no longer the small creature she used to be, nuzzles him to provide some comfort, and he appreciates it.

He tries again to stand, and when he does he feels lighter, almost like he’s floating, like he’s being pulled up to his feet. His weightlessness makes more sense when he sees his newly-evolved Noctowl alongside a Butterfree and a Drowzee. Behind them are two others: an Oddish with glossy leaves on his head, and a Nidoran who runs to him and jumps into his arms. Ethan smiles at her. She reminds him of Bayleef.

Nidoran nips his fingers and leaps onto the floor, turning back to smile before taking off. Ethan isn’t sure why, but he follows her. When he finds her, she isn’t a Nidoran but a Nidorina. And she’s sitting at a bus stop next to a pink-haired girl. The girl hugs Nidorina before nudging her in Ethan’s direction. She doesn’t have to introduce herself in order for Ethan to know her name: Whitney.

Her Clefairy and Miltank seem to come out of nowhere, as if they had jumped from the roofs of the abandoned brick buildings. Nidorina makes quick work of Clefairy with Double Kick, but the Miltank rams her body into Nidorina, sending her flying into the street.

Ethan sends in Geodude as he runs to check on Nidorina. Thankfully, she’s okay. But when he turns back, he sees Miltank rolling with incredible speed, slamming into Geodude again and again despite his attempts to knock her back with Rock Throw. It isn’t long until Miltank has forced Geodude into an alley, and it’s then that Ethan gets worried.

He runs after them, and his heart starts to panic when he sees Geodude getting tossed around like a ping pong ball. He looks around frantically, as if a solution would be spray-painted on the surrounding walls. Nidorina comes to mind. The Miltank could go down just as easily as her partner, but when she suddenly pauses her assault, Ethan thinks better of it.

He catches sight of something beside Geodude and points. “The bricks!”

Before Ethan can say anything else, Geodude hurls the first brick at the Miltank’s head, dazing her, and then personally smashes her skull with the second brick once, twice, three times –

She falls. She’s dead. And Ethan sighs with relief. But fear fills him again when he turns and sees Whitney standing behind him, flickering. She glares at him with watering eyes, and he remembers that she is quick to cry and quick to throw a tantrum.

“You cheater,” she whimpers. She clenches her fists, and the tears roll down her cheeks and drip from her chin. “You cheater!”

Ethan tries to apologize, but his vision suddenly turns white and his ears ring, and when he comes to, he’s standing over moonlit autumn leaves and the crumbling remains of his lifeless Geodude.


	5. Floor Four | 4.1

“You were doing so well.”

Ethan doesn’t realize he was crying until he hears Silver. It is then that he instinctively reaches up to wipe the tears from his face before looking up at another person.

“It seems to me that you have been neglecting the others,” Silver says as he looks over the creatures surrounding Ethan. He notices that several others have joined Ethan since he defeated Whitney: a Koffing, a Machop, a Mankey, a Girafarig, a Miltank, and a Tentacool. And then there are the Eevee and the Magnemite standing closer to Ethan than any of the others.

“Neglecting?” Ethan’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat before continuing. “What do you mean I’ve been neglecting them?”

Silver once again offers his hand to Ethan. “One of the things you must learn, Gold, is to take every living thing into consideration. Nothing and no one may be left out.”

Ethan looks at Silver’s hand. It’s smooth and clean, free of callouses and free of labor, and he wonders what Silver does for a living. He looks into the man’s eyes again to find them no different from before. Again, he denies Silver’s help and stands on his own. “Why do you call me Gold? You know my real name.”

Silver nods and simply looks at him for a moment before turning away to look at the moon. “Do you know what you are doing?”

Ethan answers without hesitating. “I’m climbing the tower.”

Silver glances back, only to find Ethan staring at him with the most bewildered expression; he knows the answer, but he doesn’t know how. Silver nods. “Correct.”

“Why do I know that?”

“Because it is your destiny,” he smoothly answers. “To fulfill it, you must keep climbing, you must keep learning, and you must keep understanding.”

“But… But I don’t understand.” He thinks back to his encounters with Falkner, Bugsy, and Whitney. All of it was far too familiar. “Why do I remember doing this before? Why do I already know the few people I’ve met? And… And where is everyone else?”

“Everyone else?”

“The other people. That city was abandoned.” Another thing that he just knows. “Whitney looked like she was waiting for a bus that would never come.”

Silver sighs. “Gold, the path you walk has been set aside for you and for those like you. You follow the trail of very few others, and few more will follow your own trail. All others exist elsewhere, much like you did before I passed on Chikorita to you.”

Ethan stares at Silver’s back. He knows this will probably be his only chance to ask him about anything. “What do you mean ‘those like me?’”

“You already know the answers to your questions. You have no need for my responses.”

“But I don’t know!” He’s growing anxious now, and Ethan wonders why he hasn’t felt desperate for answers before. He assumes it’s because of Geodude’s death, but he can’t be sure.

“Of course you do.” Silver turns and locks eyes with him. “You simply need to remember. Unless you would rather wait to meet our superior. He could explain everything.”

Ethan glowers at him, and for the first time he’s suspicious of Silver. “And so could you.”

Silver shakes his head. “No. I am not permitted to tell you these things. I am only allowed to guide you, and I will not disobey our current superior.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. He catches Magnemite’s body gleaming in the moonlight. It floats down beside Eevee, who smiles and yips at him. Ethan isn’t sure what to make of any of this. He doesn’t know why he has pushed forward all this time. He doesn’t even know why these creatures have followed him of their own will, where they’ve come from, or even why they protect him.

He faces forward to say ask, but Silver is gone, and all he can think about is the color of the man’s hair.


	6. Floor Four | 4.2

Ethan is bothered by Silver’s sudden disappearance, especially when he had yet to provide him with any answer. He expects it to happen again, knowing that it won’t be the last time that Silver abruptly leaves in the middle of a conversation.

Eevee is the one who leads them out of the forest that echoes with the sounds of bells and wind chimes. For the first time since the start, Ethan consciously wonders where he is. When he sees a blonde man standing at the end of the trail, he considers asking him, but he doubts that Morty would answer.

Another person that he recognizes. Ethan tells Eevee to come back to him and turns to walk in a different direction, but his new path is obscured by a black fog. He knows it’s Morty’s doing.

Irritated, Ethan looks back. “Call off your ghosts, I’m going… home.”

“Home? I’m afraid there’s no way back down.”

He fully faces Morty and clenches his fists. “So you’re just going to attack me so that I _have_ to move forward.”

“Precisely.”

The smog rolls toward Ethan, swallows his feet and climbs, drowning him in poison. He coughs and tears as he tries to fight his way out, but he freezes when a pair of red eyes stare at him and haunt him with the memory of a neglected ten-year-old boy. It isn’t until the eyes lunge at him and go through him that he thinks to call for his Eevee.

Eevee leaps through the darkness, fangs blazing black, and bites down on the fog. It shrieks and howls and quickly dissipates. For a moment, Ethan can see the others: Bayleef, Noctowl, Nidorina, Magnemite – Slowpoke. Ethan doesn’t need to say anything in order for her to understand. For a moment, he feels weightless again, and suddenly he’s out of the smoke and standing with them, watching Eevee chase off the Gastly with just his teeth.

He’s too focused on the small furry creature to notice a Haunter swooping down for him again. Bayleef is the one who protects him, throwing up a wall of light just before the ghost’s hands can reach Ethan. Bayleef launches razor-sharp leaves at the ghost, slicing through whatever thin membrane holds the spirit together. Black miasma rises from his wounds as he floats back several feet, eager to get away, only to meet his end between Eevee’s teeth.

Morty merely flickers and nods when the battle is over. The fog descends, blinding Ethan for all of a few seconds. He hears and smells the ocean well before he can see it.


	7. Floor Five

The only reason Ethan stops watching the sunrise is because he sees Mantine, and the only reason he sees Mantine is because Magnemite – no, Magneton – diverts his attention from the sky to the sea. But once he acknowledges their presence, he throws himself back on the sand and watches the gray clouds rolling in.

The storm starts in the ocean – waters churning, waves slamming against the shore, and even Mantine struggles not to get swept away. But Ethan doesn’t pay attention to him or to the others. He’s determined to stay on the sand, no matter how drenched or cold he gets.

Soon, however, he starts sneezing, and Bayleef forces him to his feet and pushes him toward the gazebo a couple yards away along the shoreline. It’s not much more than a thatched roof with wooden benches, but Ethan still acknowledges that it’s better than the lack of shelter he used to have back “home.” His parents cross his mind, but he quickly dismisses the thought by reminding himself that they’re dead.

Slowpoke is the one who alerts him to the presence of three others: Chuck and his Primeape and Poliwrath. Ethan doesn’t say anything. He thinks that he’d rather take a seat and let Chuck kill off the creatures that have followed him – maybe then he could leave – but when Poliwrath slams a fist into Bayleef’s side, fear jolts him out of his negative attitude and he doesn’t hesitate to order a Razor Leaf.

Surprisingly, one hit takes down the Poliwrath. Ethan never expected Bayleef to be a decent fighter, much less powerful, and he realizes that he has underestimated her and probably all of the others that have followed him.

Primeape quickly jumps in for his fallen comrade, charging forward and ready to unleash a flurry of punches and kicks as vengeance. For a moment, Ethan is completely unsure of how to get Bayleef out of harm’s way – and the fleeting thought of _why_ he wants to protect her crosses his mind – but Primeape is suddenly flung back and Ethan knows that Slowpoke came to Bayleef’s rescue.

Bayleef steps back as Slowpoke takes the front line. Ethan decides to give her a chance, thinking that her Confusion alone will keep Primeape at bay. But more often than not, the Fighting-type’s attacks are too quick for Slowpoke to catch, and he manages to land a few hits with Fury Swipes. Ethan can already guess how the fight will go, and he’s tempted to have Bayleef take over.

Glancing at the ocean, he realizes that Slowpoke needs his guidance.

Ethan orders for a Surf, and Slowpoke calls up a massive wave from the sea, slamming the water into the Primeape and dragging him out into the ocean. He struggles against the stormy waters, kicking and flailing in desperation, but soon he dips beneath the surface and even his fur disappears from Ethan’s sight.

When Ethan looks back at Slowpoke, he only finds Chuck looking at the waves, right where his Primeape drowned. Chuck frowns – whether it’s at him or at his Primeape, Ethan can’t tell – and turns to him, flickering. “You still have more to learn.”

Ethan doesn’t know what to make of his words. He doesn’t know what it is that Silver and their superior want him to know, and he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to give up no matter how badly he thinks he wants to. He sighs and sits under the gazebo, shutting his eyes to think, maybe even to rest. But soon he can’t hear the rain. When he peers at the world around him, he finds himself in a city of steel.


	8. Floor Six

Looking around, the metal towers remind Ethan of ladders, handrails, steel chairs in the attic, hiding from arguing parents who aren’t his. He isn’t sure why all of that comes to mind, but it does. He’s quick to dismiss it, however, when he feels the ground rumbling. The buildings groan, threatening to collapse, but they stand tall even as the quakes grow stronger.

Something roars in the distance, and he immediately knows the cause of the tremors and just who is going to appear now. He sees the Steelix a few blocks away, rushing toward him, but Jasmine is nowhere in sight. He considers walking away, maybe in search of Steelix’s owner. Jasmine is nice enough, if he remembers correctly; she might help him go back. But he knows the metallic beast would sooner eat him than let him get away, so he lets him approach.

Surely enough, Jasmine is chasing after her Steelix, yelling for the monster to slow down, but Steelix doesn’t come to a stop until he’s just a few yards away from Ethan, glaring down at him and the creatures around him.

Jasmine runs up to Steelix breathlessly, surrounded by three Magnemite. She looks at Ethan and smiles. “Hello. What’s your name this time?”

Ethan suddenly remembers Jasmine being one of his favorite people to come across, but her question bothers him and he’s not sure why. “Ethan.”

Her smile grows wider. She glances up at her Steelix before looking down at Ethan again. “I trust you already know how this works?”

Ethan looks down at Slowpoke. “Yeah.”

He gestures toward the Steelix, certain that Slowpoke will already know what to do. He doesn’t even question it – how Slowpoke pulls water out of the air, swirling gallons of it above them. She slams the water into Steelix. The brunt of the attack shocks Steelix into roaring, and Slowpoke takes the opportunity to force the Surf down his throat, drowning him on dry land. 

It’s quick. For Ethan, anyway, but he’s certain that isn’t the case for either Steelix or Jasmine, and when he sees the horror on the girl’s face, guilt racks him. “I…” He frowns and looks down, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

Jasmine flickers and shakes her head, like he doesn’t need to apologize despite the fact that her eyes are watering. Ethan feels bad, and he thinks of what happened when Whitney cried, but he reminds himself that Jasmine isn’t nearly as temperamental as Whitney. But he forgot that while the girl’s Magnemite aren’t fighters, they are essentially her guardians and protectors.

After they process what just happened, the three of them begin buzzing, magnets spinning wildly and angrily. Ethan narrowly dodges one that charges at his head, and he catches the other two latching onto Noctowl and Eevee. When he turns around, the third one has clamped a magnet down on Nidorina’s tail. Even as all three Magnemite start emitting a high-pitched sound, Ethan doesn’t connect the dots until the tips of their magnets blink rapidly and Jasmine yells for them to stop.

What happens next, he can’t remember very well. Silence, dust, three bombs, and probably not in that order. What he does remember is the warm, slimy red liquid that splatters on his jacket and on his right hand. And, of course, the charred heads and limbs of the three creatures scattered on the ground.


	9. Floor Seven | 7.1

Their bodies vanish at some point, probably around the time that Ethan starts feeling cold. It’s then that he realizes the blood is still on his hand. He gags when he notices it. He furiously wipes it off on his jacket, and he quickly removes that and blindly tosses it into the snow, despite the fact that his T-shirt does nothing to ward off the chilly air.

Meganium comes up to him to help comfort him and keep him warm. Once again, his Chikorita has changed, and he welcomes her support. He rests his head on her neck and shuts his eyes for a moment, ignoring the snow around them.

He wakes up when Meganium stirs – immediately wondering when he fell asleep – and looks up to find Silver standing a few feet away, his back facing him. Silver flickers a few times before glancing back. “I was not expecting to see you so soon.”

Ethan frowns and buries his face in Meganium’s neck again. “Yeah, I got three of them killed, I know…” He tenses, and Meganium nuzzles him. “So what…?”

Silver approaches him and asks, “Does it bother you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Who are the others that you plan on using?” Silver casually asks. “I know that you favor a select few over the majority. I warned you not to neglect any of them.”

Ethan angrily looks up at him. “It’s not like I can use the fifty that decided to follow –”

“Actually, there are twenty-one, including the Natu, Poliwag, and Magikarp that are hiding in the bushes over there.”

“Great, there’re more.” Ethan rolls his eyes. “Whatever… I can’t use them all anyway. Besides, I keep them safe by _not_ making them fight.”

“You and I both know that is not the reason why you neglect them.”

Ethan narrows his eyes, challenging him. “It is now,” he stubbornly retorts. But he wonders why he said that. Was it to keep Silver quiet, or was was the truth all along?

Silver looks at him curiously before continuing, “Very well, then. Now, what of the three that died earlier?”

“What about them, they’re dead.”

“Are there others that you would have rather lost?”

Ethan stays silent a moment, stroking Meganium’s neck. He absentmindedly wonders why she’s still standing over him. “Well, I guess I’d bring back Nidorina and Eevee, if I could. They’ve actually been useful,” he mutters. “But they’re dead, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters, Gold.” Ethan glares at him for the name. “Every life is equal. Noctowl deserves the same attention that Meganium and the others receive from you, as do the ones that you… are keeping safe.”

“Alright, I get it,” he groans. “Why does any of that matter?”

Silver flickers and answers, “It matters because your time is growing short. Neither I nor our superior knows exactly how much time is left, but you must hurry.”

“Right,” he scoffs as he idly pokes holes in the snow. “There’s no point to this.”

“You already started your journey, and as such, cannot return to the life you once knew. On the contrary, you will continue to be pushed forward.” 

Silver pauses for a moment to glance up at the sky and the high afternoon sun. After a moment of pondering, he turns his gaze toward the three creatures surrounding Ethan: Meganium, Slowpoke, and Magneton. “Do you remember how you tried to give up before facing Chuck?” he asks Ethan. “You protected them without hesitation. Does that not speak for itself?”

Ethan looks up at them. For the first time, he wonders what they are to him. Protectors? Guides? A miniature family…? He hasn’t had that in so long. Meganium smiles at him, as if she knows what he’s thinking. Finally, he weakly responds, “I guess…”

Silver offers him his hand. “Then rise. And keep going.”

He considers accepting his help. He does. But he decides against it and stands on his own. “I really don’t have a choice…” He means for it to come out as a question, but he knows he would be lying to himself; he already knows he can’t walk away.

The look that Silver gives him surprises him. It’s almost apologetic, almost sorrowful, but above all it’s grateful, and Ethan isn’t sure how to describe it. “I’m afraid not.” He flickers again and adds, “I will see you again soon.”

“After I defeat Claire, right?”

He nods. “Make haste, Gold. And remember.”

Silver vanishes, right before Ethan can ask what he’s supposed to remember. For a moment, he thinks Silver was talking about his lessons, but he knows it’s about something else entirely.


	10. Floor Seven | 7.2

Pryce appears not long after Silver leaves, and the old man is the last person Ethan wants to see. He remembers his cane and his gruff, chastising voice all too well. It’s enough to make him wish he were buried in the snow so frostbite would take him.

Pryce does nothing but silently stare at him for a few moments, fingers drumming against the top of his cane. Ethan rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something, but Pryce cuts him off with a stern “Silence.”

He approaches Ethan, feet crunching the snow beneath him, and carefully looks over his Meganium, Slowpoke, and Magneton. When he stops, he’s inches away from Ethan. His eyes are narrowed in disappointment.

“You’ve been careless,” Pryce tells him.

Ethan knows that, but he doesn’t want to admit that to him. He remembers the old man has always had a knack for being right.

Pryce flickers and grins a little, and it unnerves Ethan. He has never seen Pryce smile. Or, at least, he can’t remember seeing him smile. “And you know that,” Pryce says. “Perhaps you _have_ been learning.”

Ethan huffs, mildly aggravated by his condescending words, but he makes the mistake of being too loud. Pryce stops to look at him sharply, daring him to disrespect someone much older and wiser than he is.

Pryce faces him and locks eyes with him. “Am I irritating you?”

Ethan doesn’t answer. He’s too busy searching Pryce’s brown eyes for something, for some memory of a father who isn’t his, a woman with an unnaturally red gaze, a child always running from home…

Pryce slams his cane into the ground, producing a dull sound that brings Ethan’s attention back to him. “Well?”

Ethan sighs. “No.” He glances back at his Meganium and realizes they need to leave; the petals around her neck are shriveling from the cold. “Shouldn’t we just get this over with?”

“You’ve learned nothing of patience.”

That much is evident in the way Magneton overpowers Pryce’s Seel with a single jolt. His Dewgong, on the other hand, puts up something of a fight, retaliating with a beam of ice that only fogs up Magneton’s body. Paying it no mind, Magneton finishes the Dewgong with a burst of electricity.

It’s Pryce’s Piloswine that stops Magneton in its tracks. Magneton’s attempts to harm him with Thundershock fail miserably, and Ethan is forced to call it back. Considering Meganium’s current state, he knows that has to rely on Slowpoke to defeat him.

Slowpoke takes Magneton’s place just as a bitter wind whips up, lashing at her with snow and ice that does little more than numb her legs and face. Blizzard dies down, giving Slowpoke just a moment to get her blood racing in preparation for another attack.

Ethan sees the second Blizzard before she does, and orders a Confusion to catch the attack and stop it. It’s no surprise to him that she succeeds, but it does surprise him that goes an extra step. Slowpoke quickly gathers snow from the ground, the bushes, the evergreens, and Ethan watches as it all melts in her hold, filling the sky with water once again.

It’s at this that Pryce holds up his flickering hand. “Stop. I know when I am beaten.” His Piloswine stands down and walks away, not bothering to wait for Pryce to follow him. “And for the sake of those that you will have to care for, I suggest you learn to do the same.”

Ethan watches the two walk far into the distance, flicker, and vanish. He stares, vaguely wondering if Pryce is even allowed to do that, until he remembers that Slowpoke is still holding gallons of water above them. He turns to tell her to drop it somewhere, but he’s shoved back by a freezing gale. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and instinctively shields his face with his arms. But the wind slowly begins to warm, and he can’t help but wonder why lonely thoughts of hail, snow, rain, and cloudy days cross his mind. He remembers always being alone at a playground, sitting on a swing in the sun, its warmth caressing him, his skin, his face, until it burns like hot sand on bare feet, hot coffee on bare hands, burning his eyes his heart his arms –

He jumps back, trips, and falls on the rocky ground, startling himself into stopping the screams escaping his throat. He looks up with wide eyes, expecting to find himself surrounded by lava. But instead, he sees blue cinders dying in the air and a rather curious Dragonair gazing down at him.


	11. Floor Eight

“Get up.”

For a moment, Ethan thinks it’s the Dragonair speaking to him, but Clair soon walks into his view and stares down at him humorously. She saw his reaction to _thinking_ he was being burned alive, and he’s embarrassed that she did.

He picks himself up and glances around for his three creatures. They, along with a Weepinbell and a Gligar, are standing behind him as loyally as ever, and he’s filled with a strange sense of pride when he realizes Slowpoke has become a Slowbro. But he’s happier to see that Meganium is already feeling better, getting a drink of water from a nearby lake. It’s relieving.

“Looks like you’re almost there, kid,” Clair says.

Ethan hesitates to answer. “Really?” he asks incredulously. He remembers the journey being much longer.

Clair nods and flickers. “So how about we hurry so you can move on.”

It’s hardly a fair warning, considering the fact that Dragonair slams her tail into Ethan’s side just as Clair finishes speaking. Ethan stumbles forward, but he manages to balance himself before the Dragonair can hit him again.

Slowbro steps in front of him and grabs Dragonair’s tail with a powerful hand. Dragonair tries to wriggle free, but her movements are halted when Slowbro slams her into the ground like a weightless whip. Dragonair veers her head back and fires a Dragonbreath at her opponent’s face, but Slowbro just sneezes in response – and Ethan can’t help but smirk at Clair for it.

He immediately decides to tally this as another victory, confidently stating, “An Ice Punch should be enough.”

Slowbro rears her arm back, watching the Dragonair thrash around like a helpless Magikarp in an effort to escape. Hand glowing blue, Slowbro reels the Dragonair in and slams her fist in the dragon’s face, leaving her unconscious and with ice around one of her eyes.

Ethan grins at a flickering Clair, who rolls her eyes and scoffs. She doesn’t need to issue a command for her other two Dragonair to emerge from the lake. One of them sparks with electricity.

Slowbro hesitates to move toward either of them, eyes trained on the electrified Dragonair. But Ethan, oblivious to Slowbro’s cautious actions, calls for the same attack as before. Slowbro strikes the ground with Ice Punch, causing frozen crystals to explode from the dirt, racing toward the two Dragonair.

The charged Dragonair manages to release her Thunder Wave just before the ice swallows and encases her. The other evades the attack, slithering out of the way and swiftly gliding along the dirt to slam the paralyzed Slowbro into the lake with her tail.

Dragonair haughtily raises her head, proud and ready to claim the battle. But she winces when Confusion hits, bowing her head as if that would ease the splitting migraine that has overtaken her, until she blacks out and drops to the ground unconscious.

Ethan thinks that the third Dragonair is the end of it, and he turns to Clair to boast about finally knocking her off her high Rapidash without a problem – and he can’t help but wonder in the back of his mind why he felt an easy victory was long overdue – but it’s when he sees the glint in her eyes that he remembers the fourth one.

The water explodes as Hyper Beam hits its target, and Slowbro is blasted out of the lake and onto the dirt. She struggles to get to her feet, panting hard as she looks back at the Kingdra floating on the water’s surface.

He remembers now. He remembers her Kingdra, and he especially remembers it being a pain to deal with.

Looking at Slowbro and acknowledging that she’s in no condition to continue battling, he gestures for her to fall back and tells Magneton to take her place. Magneton is quick to fire a weak jolt of electricity at Kingdra, paralyzing her, and follows up with a more powerful Thundershock.

Kingdra wails horribly, forcing Ethan to plug his ears with his fingers. She angrily thrashes about, and the fin on her back begins to quiver. The water around her churns in response, surging and climbing into a giant wave behind her. It isn’t until she jabs her snout in Magneton’s direction that the water rushes forward, swallowing Magneton in its rage and leaving it washed up and motionless on the ground.

Ethan’s heart stops for a moment, and he almost forgets to breathe. He stares at Magneton carefully, cautiously, hoping and wishing that it’s alright, that it will get up. He remembers his Noctowl, his Eevee, his Nidorina, his Geodude. And he remembers that there were others, there had always been others. Faceless creatures with names he can’t recall, owners he can’t recall, but he knows each and every one of them, he knows them well.

Magneton twitches. It blinks. It sparks. And that is enough to start Ethan’s heart again and bring him back to the battle before him. He watches Magneton weakly rise from the ground, and he turns to Meganium, who looks ready to fight again. He hesitates to let her, despite her show of power when she fought Chuck, but he doesn’t have any other choices.

Meganium steps forward as another wave rises from the lake, and it crashes into her relentlessly. But Ethan can only stare in awe as she stands there, unflinching, taking the brunt of the attack. He remembers Silver saying that their superior must have thought highly of him to give him Chikorita. He thinks this is why.

“Razor Leaf!”

The petals around her neck tremble, shooting forth hundreds of leaves, hundreds of shards of green glass. They slash at Kingdra’s body, tearing through tough skin in search of blood, cutting through water when she dives down to escape.

Even after the attack has long ended, Ethan continues staring at the lake’s surface, waiting for Kingdra to rise and continue the fight. So he jumps when Clair starts laughing, and he realizes that he has been tense since Kingdra appeared.

He looks up at Clair, and though he finds it immensely strange, he feels happy when he sees Clair smiling amidst the flickering static. But he’s exhausted and out of breath for reasons he can’t guess at. The edges of his vision are going black, and he feels weak. He feels his legs giving way, he feels like he’s falling –

“You’re finally learning, Gold.”


	12. Floor Nine | 9.1

When he wakes up, there are eight of them set down in front of them. Eight perfectly round red-and-white spheres, shining just like the one that Chikorita first came in. Ethan forces himself to look skyward, and he sees Silver looking down at him, kneeling in front of him and flickering like a broken television.

“You – have made it – quite far,” Silver tells him in between moments of white noise. His image settles down afterward, but it still jumps and cuts into static randomly.

Ethan blinks at him a few times before trying to think of what to say. He carefully sits up and – either choosing to ignore Silver’s broken appearance or deciding that it’s normal, he isn’t sure which – looks at the orbs on the freshly-waxed linoleum. “What’s in them?” he asks, tempted to pick them up and open them himself.

“They are gifts – from our superior. Four of them are creatures that you – have not met, and four of them are already following you. However,” he says as Ethan reaches for one. He stops and looks up at Silver, expecting some sort of caveat. “Keep in mind that their condition is reflective of how far you have come.”

Ethan sits straight and stares at him with carefully narrowed eyes. He notices that Silver is mostly clear now, flickering only at the edges of his hair, his arm, sometimes his knee. He figures that whatever was wrong is fixed now and decides there’s no point in saying anything. He doesn’t care enough to ask anyway.

“Would you like to see what they are?” Silver asks.

He thinks for a moment, nods, and wonders where Meganium and the other two are.

The first four balls open and unleash four separate rays of red light. One stretches to a fish tank against the left wall of the room, releasing a Goldeen into the water. The other three reveal their inhabitants right in front of Ethan: a Sandslash, a Rhydon, and a violet Wobbuffet. 

Ethan gives the Wobbuffet a curious look. “Aren’t those usually blue?” he asks, unsure of how he knows their natural color.

“Yes. Even I have to wonder what that might mean for you. Now,” Silver says as he gestures toward the other four orbs, “these are the four that have already joined you.”

Red light bursts from the balls again. Two reveal a lively Xatu and Primeape, but the other two horrify Ethan with their appearance and stench.

He remembers the Miltank, and he can see the resemblance between the small Machop he met and the Machoke now lying on the floor. But he distinctly remembers both of them being alive. Now they are corpses in a pristine room, bodies with hollow cheeks, cold skin, and decaying flesh. Ethan gags and recoils. He pulls up his shirt to cover his mouth and nose, but that does little to abate the smell.

“What is –?!”

“He must have been disappointed with you a few times,” Silver reasons, flickering as he glances at the bodies. 

Ethan glares at him. “No, he’d never kill them off for that!”

He barely notices Silver’s eyes widen slightly with shock. The man does nothing but stare at him for a few seconds, and he can understand why. How could he know what their superior would and wouldn’t do? He doesn’t know him. 

When Ethan is about to speak again, Silver calls Miltank and Machoke back into their balls. He gingerly places the spheres on the floor before carefully saying, “You… have been remembering, haven’t you.”

“Remembering what?” Ethan slowly pulls the shirt away from his face, taking quick, short sniffs to ensure that it’s safe to breathe again. When he decides that it is, he lets go of the hem of his shirt, and it’s then that those little things come back to him – a dirty and neglected home, a broken family, arguments that knocked over glasses of red wine and cups of hot coffee, fights that chased him up into the attic, out into the playground some ways away from home. He remembers these things happening to _him_. But it isn’t his family that he thinks of. It’s someone else’s.

Ethan looks down at the floor and swallows, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “What…” He bites his lip and quietly continues, “What’s his name?” He looks up at Silver to find him shaking his head.

“You must remember on your own. If it means anything,” he says as he stands, “you are close.” He offers Ethan his hand.

And like all other times, Ethan disregards it. He looks off to the side, and finally he sees them there again: Meganium, Slowbro, and Magneton. But Rhydon, Primeape, and Xatu are standing by them as well, and he’s genuinely surprised that Primeape and Xatu have joined him even though he has ignored them all this time. He gives them a small smile and welcomes their support.

He stands on his own.

“You still have more to do, Gold,” Silver tells him as he quickly makes his way to the double doors at the back of the room. “Remember that we do not have much time.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and follows him. “He’s getting old, isn’t he.”

It’s an offhanded remark, a careless one, but after he says it, he realizes that it’s true. Confused and mildly worried, he looks at Silver for some sort of confirmation, but the man doesn’t even turn around to look at him.

“I will accompany you for a short while, to observe you directly, as per his request.” He opens the doors for Ethan and waits for him to approach.

Ethan takes his time reaching him, glaring at him warily and suspiciously. “Why?”

“Do you remember what happens next?”

He stays silent until he stops in front of Silver. He knows there’s no point in repeating his questions; Silver will just ignore him again. 

Looking past the door, Ethan sees only darkness and wonders if Will and Karen suddenly decided to switch places.

“Yeah. I do.”


	13. Floor Nine | 9.2

The moment Ethan steps through the door, he knows he’s somewhere else. He glances back at Silver just in time to watch the closed doors vanish in a flash of light.

As if he were reading Ethan’s mind, Silver asks, “Has anything else on your journey made sense?”

Ethan is hard-pressed to argue with him, so he shrugs and faces forward. For a few moments, they’re standing in darkness, but the floor eventually lights up, glowing violet through glass tiles. It’s the only source of light for as far as Ethan can see, and it stretches for miles in every direction.

He hears Will chuckling above him. Sure enough, when he looks up, Will is floating in the air with one of his Xatu hovering beside him. “Welcome, Gold.” He leers at him through his mask. “I was hoping to see you sooner. But alas,” he sighs. He frowns. Then grins. And he flickers a few times.

It unnerves him, but Ethan remembers this being normal behavior for Will. He focuses on Will’s Xatu for a moment, contemplating how he will handle this fight. “Silver.”

“Yes?” he responds without hesitation.

“I’m probably only going to use a few of them. But.” Ethan turns to glare at him. “Don’t you dare think I’m neglecting them.”

Silver just stares at him through static with his dusty, gray eyes, and it’s now that Ethan realizes Silver is incredibly old.

Eventually, Silver nods. “Duly noted.”

“If they don’t need to get hurt, I won’t let them,” he mutters.

“Alright, then!” Will sings, bringing Ethan’s attention back to him. “Let’s get started, shall we? We don’t want to keep him waiting, now do we.”

His Xatu chirps and raises his wings. The edges of his body blur and stretch, pulling apart until they have created another Xatu. They click their beaks and cry out together, waving their wings like flag signals – mirrored clones moving in perfect unison.

Ethan scowls. Then again, he can’t remember Will ever being above cheating. He catches the man grinning at him from his seat in the air.

Slowbro appears without a word from Ethan, both arms glowing blue and ready to strike. The two Xatu soar overhead, chattering nonsense to each other and, Ethan assumes, planning a coordinated attack. Without warning, they dive low to the ground, skimming the glass, beaks poised to stab Slowbro clear through her stomach.

Slowbro watches them carefully, judging their speed, estimating their power. She rears her arms, ready to unleash an Ice Punch on both of them, but the two split just as she lunges forward, one veering to the left, the other to the right.

They circle her afterward, eyes and markings glowing a deep violet, entrancing Slowbro and trapping her in a whirlwind Confuse Ray. Slowbro swings her arms around in the hopes of hitting them and knocking them away, but she only ends up hurting herself.

“Slowbro, just hit the ground!”

Somehow, Ethan’s words reach her through the chattering, and she slams a blue fist into the ground, raising icicles around her and spearing the two Xatu. 

Slowbro pants and sways as the ice melts, dropping the Xatu on the glass. Ethan considers pulling her out, but before he can decide, a net of vines ensnares Slowbro. It sparks with energy, draining her health, and it takes him a moment to notice that the Leech Seed came from Will’s happily dancing Exeggutor.

Slowbro growls in pain and anger, rushing forward with another Ice Punch at the ready. Exeggutor twirls in preparation to evade the attack – earning himself cheers and applause from Will – but Slowbro catches him in the side with her fist, crystallizing his legs and one of his faces.

The vines wilt and fall off Slowbro’s body. Ethan can see in her eyes that she wants to keep fighting – and for the life of him, he can’t guess why – but, breathless as she is, he knows she’s in no condition to keep going. It worries him.

Will, on the other hand, finds it amusing. He grins. “Oh? Is someone too tired? Is someone almost out?”

His Jynx steps in, dancing circles around Slowbro and batting her eyelashes at her. Slowbro tiredly swipes at her, but Jynx spins away and raises a hand.

Magneton unleashes a Thundershock before Jynx can land a blow to Slowbro’s face. Jynx whines in pain and recoils, turning her fury on Magneton once the attack subsides. Her hair sticks up with static, and it frosts over as Jynx charges with an Ice Punch ready to strike.

Magneton spins rapidly, magnets glowing yellow until star-shaped projectiles shoot out. They knock back Jynx’s fist, causing her to lose focus and drop her attack, and slice through her hair and skin until she falls, covered in dark red streaks.

Will pouts as his Slowbro appears, clumsily making his way to Magneton with a goofy smile on his face. Magneton approaches him carefully, unsure of what to expect from him. It slowly floats closer and closer to him, and when it’s inches away, Slowbro’s only reaction is letting his tongue loll out of his mouth.

Magneton circles him and clamps a magnet onto his shell. Slowbro only tilts his head and tries several times to look back and see what’s behind him. Magneton’s Zap Cannon hits the back of his head well before he can guess what’s going on.

Magneton lets go of Slowbro as he staggers forward, looking around for the source of the attack. It takes a while before he feels the searing pain in his skull, and he falls flat on his face, unconscious.

“Oh, boo!” Will jeers. He crosses his arms. “That was cheap, Gold, as cheap as ever.”

“And you’re just as psychotic as ever,” Ethan retorts.

“You remember?” He gasps. “I’m touched.” He puts his hands over his heart in a false show of emotion, and soon he flickers and bares his teeth in a feral grin.

Silver steps forward. “Stop making a fool of yourself, Will. Now let him pass. Gold needs to keep moving.”

Will huffs childishly. “Fine, Silver, Kamon, Soul, whatever your name is now,” he says, waving his words away. He grins and leers at Silver, who only frowns at him distastefully.

Ethan looks back and forth between the two. “Silver, what is he talking about?”

Silver glances at him. “I see you still haven’t remembered.”

It’s strange, though. Ethan is sure he sees a hint of pain flicker across Silver’s eyes.


	14. Floor Nine | 9.3

No matter how many times Ethan presses him for an explanation, Silver doesn’t give him an answer. He either responds with a question of his own, or keeps silently walking. Ethan eventually gives up trying to find out the meaning of Will’s last words. He isn’t even sure why they mean anything to him, but the thought of Silver having more than one name makes him anxious. Or guilty? Guilty that he can’t remember something as important as Silver’s names? Why would that matter to him anyway?

Does he feel bad because Silver seems upset about it?

“Welcome.”

Koga’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, pulling his gaze from the back of Silver’s head to the darkness before him. Ethan squints, trying to make out Koga’s silhouette against the distant black despite not being able to see much farther past Silver.

Something sticky latches onto his right hand – instantly reminding him of Noctowl, Eevee, and Nidorina – and weaves itself into his fingers. Ethan yelps and desperately tries to shake it off, but when he realizes it’s just a String Shot and sees Silver looking at him rather strangely, he feels embarrassed.

Koga laughs good-naturedly, and the floor lights up, much like it did in Will’s room. It’s a deep green this time, reminding Ethan of the forest that those parents always said not to enter. “Still jumpy?”

“No,” Ethan mumbles as he pulls the silk off his hand.

Koga smiles and bows his head. The Ariados standing beside him follows suit. “It’s good to see you again.”

Ethan doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. He just wipes his hand on his pants as he awkwardly waits for Koga to stand straight.

The warm smile is still on his face when he does, despite his sudden flickering. Koga then turns to Silver. “You as well. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it.”

Silver nods. “It has.”

Koga faces Ethan again. “Now, I know I can’t keep you here for long. Shall we get started?” he politely asks. His Ariados steps forward. He stands there, obediently awaiting an order from Koga, but he’s lifted off his feet suddenly and flung several yards into the distance.

Confused, Ethan turns around to see Slowbro standing beside him. She’s still eager to fight, and still able to, seeing how quickly she got rid of Ariados. But she’s also still tired from her fight against Will.

Ethan places a hand on her arm. He’s surprised at how cool and smooth her fur is under his fingers. “Just rest up this time.”

Slowbro grunts and gives him a skeptical look.

He smiles. “I’ll let you fight all you want against Bruno, okay?”

It takes a moment, but it seems to please her. She sits beside Silver and lets Xatu take her place against Koga’s Venomoth, who’s already swooping in for an attack. Xatu spreads his wings and at the last second shoots up with a speed Ethan could never have guessed he had. He narrowly avoids Venomoth, who quickly flips upside down and starts buzzing.

It isn’t until he sees Xatu swaying back and forth in the air that Ethan realizes it was a Supersonic. “Xatu, come on, just pull through with Fly!”

Dazed, Xatu stares in Ethan’s direction, trying to make out his words. Eventually, he clumsily loops around, but his path straightens as he begins his descent. Venomoth is desperately trying to hold Xatu back with Psychic, but it hardly slows Xatu down, and he’s left with no choice but to try to escape. Xatu catches his wing with his beak just as he flies up. His feet tear at it and shred it until Venomoth falls through and hits the ground, unable to get back up.

Just a second later, Koga’s Crobat silently zooms past Xatu and strikes one of his wings, sending Xatu spiraling to the ground.

Ethan feels it before it happens: the crash, the shattering glass, Xatu’s head splitting wide open, maybe he _should_ have let Slowbro fight. But Xatu spreads his wings long before any of that can happen. He catches himself and lands safely, albeit awkwardly, on the floor. He looks up at the Crobat circling overhead, but he wobbles as he does.

Ethan sighs with relief, briefly catching Silver’s attention, and tells Xatu to come back after sending Magneton in. Crobat hastily flies in to land another Wing Attack, but he fails to notice Magneton sparking before he collides with it. Magneton unleashes a Thundershock at the moment of impact, and the smoking Crobat drops with a dull thud.

Ethan and Magneton stare at the Crobat’s body, waiting for it to get back up and strike. They’re too focused on it to see the projeciles coming Magneton’s way. It notices the attack at the last moment and spins rapidly, knocking the Spikes in several different directions. Forretress rolls in, and Ethan immediately grits his teeth.

He’s seen that thing explode more than once.

“Get rid of it with Zap Cannon!” he anxiously orders.

But instead of immediately acting on Ethan’s words, Magneton carefully watches Forretress, contemplatively spinning its magnets. It doesn’t move into action until the red spikes jut out of Forretress’ body, shooting out numerous stars from their tips.

Magneton charges forward, allowing the Swift attack to hit and bounce off painlessly. Its magnets are pulled in by Forretress’ metallic body, and when it starts charging a Zap Cannon, Forretress traps himself in his shell and starts glowing white.

They both go up in a cloud of smoke after Zap Cannon hits, and Ethan is certain that Forretress managed to pull off Explosion. But Magneton rises shortly after. When Koga sends his Muk in, Ethan realizes he’s been nothing but paranoid.

He sends Rhydon in to finish off the Muk with an Earthquake. He sees Koga take a small bow – accepting defeat, he assumes – just as Rhydon raises his arms and slams them into the ground. The glass cracks, shatters, pillars of it ram into Muk’s underside, trapping his slimy body in the shards of glass, flinging an arm and an eye somewhere off in the distance.

Ethan’s just glad neither of them land near him.

“Well fought,” Koga says. He flickers, disappears, and reappears inches in front of Ethan, startling him. Koga smiles at him. “He’s been learning, hasn’t he,” he tells Silver.

“Yes,” he monotonously answers.

Ethan looks at Silver oddly. He still can’t understand why he’s been in such a strange mood. It can’t just be because he doesn’t remember his names, can it?

Koga faces Ethan and bows. “I wish you luck on the rest of your journey.”

Ethan hesitates to answer. The amount of respect that Koga shows him is a bit unsettling. “Thanks.”

He straightens and turns to Silver. “I do wish we could see each other more often, but it’s unfortunate that the circumstances never allow that.”

Silver opens his mouth to say something, but Ethan cuts him off. “When was the last time you two saw each other?”

Silver looks away, uneager to reply, but Koga easily answers, “Oh, it’s been hundreds of years.”

Ethan takes a moment to process that, all the while staring at Koga. “What?”

Silver flickers dangerously before telling Koga, “We need to keep moving.”

He’s doing it again. Keeping him from getting answers. And Ethan isn’t sure why it is, but now of all times, it puts him on edge. He grabs Silver’s sleeve and yanks him aside. He would’ve sneered at him if it weren’t for the utter shock on Silver’s face. “Why don’t you let me get any answers?” Silver opens his mouth to respond, but Ethan cuts him off. “And I don’t want any of that ‘I need to remember’ crap, I want an actual answer.”

He stays silent.

Ethan throws his head back and huffs exasperatedly. He quickly glances around, not noticing that Koga is gone, before bringing his eyes back to Silver. He feels desperate. “Aren’t you my friend? My… My partner? That one person I can always trust to be there? So why…” He trails off. He feels it coming back, vaguely, nipping at the edges of his memories, but he can’t quite grab it. 

Ethan’s voice lowers to a whisper. “Why won’t you help me?”


	15. Floor Nine | 9.4

“I cannot tell you.”

At least Silver looks dejected when he answers. And at least he looked like he was going to say something useful prior to that. But the fact is, he doesn’t say anything, and it’s enough to make Ethan grit his teeth with frustration.

He breathes in sharply. “Okay,” he hisses.

Bruno clears his throat, the sound echoing throughout and bringing Ethan’s attention to the burly man. It isn’t until then that he realizes Koga even left.

“Am I interrupting something?” Bruno asks. His voice deep and powerful, the kind that makes Ethan think of tough bosses, of army generals.

Of demanding fathers.

Neither Silver nor Ethan replies, so Bruno stands from the sand-colored floor, flickering as he does. “I thought not. Let’s not waste any time.”

Four of them fall out of the sky: Hitmontop, Hitmonchan, Hitmonlee, and Machamp.

Of course, Slowbro steps out without a word from Ethan. And yes, he knows he promised that she could fight however much she wants against Bruno, but having her go against four others at once? He thinks she’s crazy.

That is, until he watches how she handles their first attack, all four of them, nothing but graceless bulks of mass charging toward her with little to their name but fists and feet. The Hitmontop and Machamp come in first, with rolling kicks and reared arms ready to land death blows. Ethan can see their strength in their bulging muscles and veins, and he’s afraid Slowbro won’t be able to handle it.

But massive as they are, Slowbro stops them in their tracks with Psychic. One by one, Machamp’s arms are pulled behind him, stretched to their limits until Ethan’s certain that cracking sound is his bones snapping apart. Hitmontop, on the other hand, is held in place by the attack, forced to spin faster and faster until Slowbro decides to launch him at Machamp, letting Hitmontop’s feet wail on Machamp’s face. It isn’t long until Machamp is on the floor, panting, bleeding, and broken-boned. The Hitmontop can’t even get to his feet.

Ethan knew Slowbro liked to fight. But now she’s actually scaring him.

She turns to the remaining Hitmonchan and Hitmonlee, who look appalled at the state of their partners. But they don brave faces quickly enough. Hitmonchan is the first to move, feet practically gliding across the floor his haste to meet Slowbro with an electrified fist.

The Thunder Punch is too quick for Slowbro to catch. It lands in her stomach, sending her body in spasms and knocking the wind out of her. She can’t even balance herself properly before Hitmonlee’s Hi Jump Kick sends her flying into the air.

Ethan’s heart panics, even though he knows or he thinks she’ll get back up. He watches helplessly as she falls – he knows then and there Xatu will be the next to go in, Slowbro can’t stay – and lands with enough force to crack the glass. He can almost feel the impact in his own bones. 

He’s about to send in Xatu, but he decides against it when Slowbro gives him what he can only describe as a death glare. As startling as it is, it fills him with pride. She’s a fighter.

Hitmonchan runs in for another Thunder Punch, but Slowbro’s Psychic grabs him and throws his attack at Hitmonlee.

She does something else to them. Ethan knows that much, he can tell by their expressions, their widening eyes and stiffening bodies. But when they drop, probably dead, he decides he’s better off not knowing how Psychic really works.

Regardless, Slowbro’s exhaustion is painfully obvious. Ethan decides she won’t be fighting again anytime soon, no matter much she scowls at him. He’s about to call her back and praise the way she handled the fight, but a deafening roar interrupts him. He forgot about Bruno’s Onix.

Onix seems to rise from the glass, giant eyes trained on Slowbro, monstrous tail poised to crush her and take her out. He roars as his tail comes crashing down. Ethan can see Slowbro trying to stop it with Psychic, but it isn’t doesn’t work. The string of rocks keeps falling and Ethan can’t risk it anymore.

“Meganium!”

Meganium shoots into the fight, petals shaking, leaves flying, slicing the surface of Onix’s body and leaving gashes in his rocks. One strikes his eye, and he roars in pain, tail thrashing about just narrowly missing Slowbro and Meganium, until finally he falls back, cracking the glass and making the floor tremble.

Meganium turns to Ethan and smiles, like she knows she’s done well. Ethan walks up to her and affectionately pets her head. “Thanks.” She nuzzles him in return.

Bruno grunts. He sees Silver approaching him and waits for him to get closer to say, “He’s doing well.”

“Yes,” he answers. Silver looks over at Ethan, who’s trying to explain to Slowbro why she needs to sit out the next battle. Surprisingly, she’s taking it well. “I suppose he his. Still,” he says as he turns back to Bruno, “there are… a lot of things he cannot recall as of yet.”

Bruno raises an eyebrow. He glances at Ethan, comes back to Silver, and studies him for a moment. “I take it this is something personal?”

He frowns a little, looking away. “It should not be.” He hesitates. “So it is not.”

Bruno looks up at Ethan again, who’s approaching them with a cheery Meganium and a disappointed Slowbro. “He’ll come around. He already is.”

Silver turns around, looks at Ethan, and… he smiles. He flickers as he does and it’s only a little smile, but Ethan honestly finds it reassuring.

“I suppose so,” Silver quietly says.


	16. Floor Nine | 9.5

The moment Ethan sees Karen, he remembers why he doesn’t like her. The way she stands, the way she’s filing her nails, the way she looks down at him – she had an attitude he’s glad he didn’t remember until now.

“Took you long enough,” she spits at him.

Ethan scowls at her. “I see you still haven’t changed your nasty attitude.”

She scowls, but she approaches him nonetheless, looking him up and down and waving her emery board at him. She hums contemplatively. “You got older.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Karen gives him an incredulous look before turning to Silver. “Is he serious?”

Silver sighs. “Yes, Karen, he has not remembered yet.”

“Wow.” She frowns at Ethan. “You got slower, too.”

“Aren’t we supposed to fight or something?” Ethan retorts.

“Ooh, and more aggressive,” she teases. She turns and walks away, flickering as she does. “Alright. Have it your way, whatever-your-new-name-is.”

“Gold,” Silver responds.

Karen waves his answer away. “Yeah, that, whatever.” When she’s standing where she was earlier, she turns around only to find Silver flickering and frowning at her. “What, I forget!” she says, but she rolls her eyes when her response does nothing to calm his irritation. “Umbreon!”

Her Umbreon jumps out from the shadows and lands on the dim, navy glass. Ethan can barely make out the creature’s body in the darkness. All he can spot are his glistening red eyes.

Despite never having used him, Ethan knows Primeape will be the only one that can handle that Umbreon. He calls Primeape, who flies in and lands nimbly on his feet, eyeing the Umbreon before racing forward with flailing arms and fists. Umbreon swiftly jumps over him, avoiding his strikes and punches, and Bites down on his ear.

The attack enrages Primeape. He thrashes about in an effort to shake off his attaker, but Umbreon hangs on, clamping his teeth tighter, sinking his sharp fangs deeper into Primeape’s ear. Primeape manages to swing Umbreon over and grab hold of his tail, squeezing tightly and crushing its bones. Umbreon finally releases his ear to let out a cry of pain, and Primeape uses the moment to slam him into the ground. Umbreon hardly has a chance to breathe before Primeape lands a Cross Chop that sends him sliding to Karen’s feet.

Slack-jawed, Karen stares at her unconscious Umbreon before glancing up at Ethan and his Primeape. “A _lot_ more aggressive,” she mumbles. “Tch. Alright, fine! If that’s how you want to play.”

Her Murkrow dives down from the sky, just missing Primeape as he jumps away. Her beak instead ends up jabbing the floor, leaving behind a web of cracks. She looks at Primeape with murderous eyes and caws before taking flight again and shooting straight for him.

Magneton swoops in, protecting Primeape and taking the brunt of the attack itself. Murkrow’s beak clangs against Magneton’s body. The sudden collision into steel instead of flesh disorients her long enough to allow Magneton to charge up a Thundershock. She squawks fearfully and desperately flaps her wings to escape, but Magneton releases the electricity long before she can, charring her and leaving her dead on the ground.

Karen’s Houndoom is next. She jumps into the fray with flaming teeth and tongue, and she doesn’t hesitate to fire a Flamethrower at Magneton. But Rhydon steps in front of Magneton and takes the hit without much of a problem.

Houndoom seems to scoff, spitting out a flame, before running up to Rhydon with blazing black fangs. Rhydon sweeps an arm in front of himself, trying to knock her away, but Houndoom latches onto his arm with Crunch, breaking the thick surface of his skin. Rhydon cries out in pain and shakes her off, immediately slamming a fist into the floor. The Earthquake snakes its way across the floor, causing pillars of glass shoot up. Houndoom jumps to evade the attack, but the pillars ram into her with enough force to break bones and draw blood.

Rhydon is too busy inspecting the bleeding wound in his arm that he doesn’t notice the barrage of flower petals coming his way. Xatu does, however, stopping the Petal Dance with Psychic and wilting the petals long before they can reach Rhydon. Xatu hovers beside Rhydon, who seems to grunt a thank you to his teammate.

Vileplume dances out of the shadows, twirling as more petals fly out from the flower on her head. Xatu shoots up, avoiding them, and then dives down, drilling his beak into Vileplume’s head. Blood flies out when he pulls his beak back, and Vileplume drops dead.

Xatu calmly lands on the floor and licks his beak clean of blood. But he freezes, flinches, and squawks in pain as a dark aura envelopes him. Something cackles in the shadows, and a long pink tongue shoots out and sweeps across Xatu’s face. Xatu slaps the tongue away with his wing and flies back, deciding to let Meganium step in and take care of the Gengar slowly materializing in front of them.

Gengar lashes out with Lick, wrapping her tongue around Meganium’s leg. She tugs at Meganium, trying to pull her in closer for a Destiny Bond, but Meganium holds her ground. She unleashes a Razor Leaf, cutting straight through Gengar’s tongue. Gengar cries out in pain. Her tongue melts into smoke, the gashes in her body bleed black mist – she’s absolutely helpless against the Razor Leaf. Gengar goes up in smoke, dissipating until nothing is left.

Karen frowns. She mulls over her thoughts before saying, “Alright, so you got stronger too, whatever. Just don’t get cocky, kid.” She looks away, rolling her eyes, and mumbles, “You’re actually kind of promising.”

“Look at that,” Ethan chuckles. “A nice comment from Karen.”

She flickers. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

“Perhaps you should bite your tongue next time,” Silver warns her. “You could use a lesson in humility.”

Karen glares at him. “Don’t lecture me. And don’t you dare think you’re better than me just because you get to play bodyguard.”

Ethan tries not to laugh. They never got along, did they. He wants to speak up, but there’s no need to.

He already knows Silver’s better than anyone else he’s met.


	17. Floor Nine | 9.6

They’re sent to an actual room this time, one with ornate chandeliers and a plush red carpet. The double doors at the back of the room seem to be made of diamonds.

Ethan stops dead in his tracks and stares at the doors. “He’s not there.”

Silver turns and looks at him curiously.

“The… superior,” Ethan supplies. “He’s not the next person. Lance is, right?”

Silver nods. “That is correct.”

Ethan frowns. “I thought I was almost done.” He stays silent for a moment before looking at Silver. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

The question disappoints Silver, setting him up for more frustration. From the look on his face, Ethan can tell Silver was hoping he’d never bring it up again. “I simply cannot tell you, Gold. That is all.”

“Just tell me why.”

“I _cannot_ tell you.”

“Silver,” he says sternly.

Silver grits his teeth. “Y–” He exhales, taking a moment to collect himself, and calmly responds, “He told me not to tell you anything, Gold.”

Ethan rolls his eyes.

“I am only following orders. Please believe me when I say that I wish I _could_ provide you with all the answers you seek.”

Ethan looks at him skeptically. But he’s surprised to see the sincerity in Silver’s eyes, so he decides to drop the topic. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

Ethan nods. He looks at the doors again. “He’s… He’s a kid, right?”

“Who?” Silver cautiously asks, careful not to imply any answers for him, despite knowing what he’ll say. He flickers, awaiting a response from him.

“The superior. It… It kind of makes sense.” Worried, he faces Silver. “Right?”

Silver stays silent, watching the gears turn in his head.

“I mean… He came by here before, right? That’s who Karen was talking about. He’s just a kid.” His fingers pick at the fabric of his pants. “He… That was always his family I saw, right? The mom and the dad who were always fighting? And he’d always run off and hide whenever they did. Right?”

It doesn’t help that Silver looks sorry when he nods.

Ethan takes a deep breath. “Right,” he whispers. He clenches his fists, scratching his palms with his fingernails. “He never really had a home… Kind of like me.”

His eyes come to mind – big, quiet, innocent, and bloody. Bloody like his mother’s eyes, bloody like that Gengar’s eyes, bloody like Silver’s hair. Blood red.

“Red.”

“Yes. That is his name.”

“No.” Ethan frowns. “That’s not his real name. Just like Silver isn’t your real name.”

He doesn’t respond.

Ethan looks at him sadly. “You don’t even remember what your real name is, do you.”

Dejected, Silver turns away. The edges of his image phase out for a moment. “He refuses to tell me, and he would never call me by anything other than Silver.”

“Hey.” Ethan’s voice is soft but encouraging. “Maybe when I meet him, I can convince him to at least tell you. You know, if Lance doesn’t kill me first.” He grins.

Silver chuckles. “I must admit, Gold, you have improved incredibly since you started. I might even dare to say you have done better than Red.” He looks at Ethan, seemingly surprised at his own words, and turns away shamefully. “Of course, I doubt that would mean much from me, since there is much that you have yet to recall, but –”

Ethan interrupts him with a gentle elbow to the side and grins. “Thanks.”

Silver looks at him with surprise before returning his smile.


	18. Floor Nine | 9.7

Unlike the others, Lance actually has a room, and it’s made entirely of marble: the floors, the walls, the doors – even window frames, draconian statues, and a throne of sorts, all made of marble. It perplexes Ethan. He doesn’t remember Lance being so deserving of such a grand place, especially when compared to the other four.

“Gold!” Lance’s voice echoes throughout the enormous room, and when Ethan realizes that Lance is sitting in the throne, he wonders why Red would put him here.

Lance grins, stands, and bows quickly. He flickers, and Ethan can’t help but think it’s out of character for him. “It’s about time,” Lance tells him. He glances at Silver and continues, “But I see Silver is still travelling with you… I guess the superior couldn’t wait to get rid of you?”

Silver frowns. “He’s growing rather… restless.”

“Well, for your sake, I wouldn’t want to hold you two up.”

The statues by his throne glow, eyes shining red and releasing a beam of light that pools in the center of the room, climbing, solidifying, dimming, until all that’s left is a monstrous Gyarados. He rears his head back and roars. Spittle flies from his teeth, and even the air grows moist from his breath, but Ethan is too preoccupied with the beast’s sheer size to notice either.

Gyarados slams his tail on the floor, sending tremors through the ground and snapping Ethan out of his daze. Ethan glances at Lance to find him smirking a little, and he knows Lance is waiting to see how he compares to Red.

Magneton flies out without a word from Ethan, magnets spinning and crackling with electricity, zooming toward the monster in the room. Gyarados growls, thrashing with his tail, lunging forward to collide with Magneton and send it back to the other end of the room. But Magneton evades his every attempt to hit it, diving, soaring, closing in until Gyarados can feel static dancing on his scales, and Magneton unleashes all the electricity pent up in its body.

He screams. He throws his head up and screams, his body spasms, and once the attack ends, he’s quiet. He’s still looking upward, silent, bones and muscles as rigid as steel, and Ethan finds it a bit horrifying that all he can do is stare for a few moments until Gyarados goes limp and falls with a deafening thud, with enough force to make some of the windows crack.

Lance watches his Gyarados vanish with a frown on his face, and Ethan can’t tell if he’s upset that Gyarados went down so quickly, or if it’s because Gyarados didn’t go down quickly enough. “Alright. Let’s see how you deal with these three.”

The windows shatter, and Ethan is thinking of wine when he sees three Dragonite soaring overhead like territorial Skarmory, eyes trained on him and his Magneton. One of them, the smallest of the three, glows softly, surrounding himself and his partners with Safeguard before another shoots down like a flaming bullet.

This Dragonite is much swifter than Gyarados, practically screeching to a halt in front of Magneton, reeling it in with his tail, slamming a fist into it and denting its metallic body. Magneton unsteadily floats away, and Dragonite roars, seemingly pleased with the damage he caused.

He shoots forward for another punch, but Magneton whirs with newfound energy and scoots back just enough to avoid getting hit, moving quickly enough to latch onto Dragonite’s arm. Magneton immediately starts sparking, and Dragonite – whether out of rage or fear, Ethan can’t tell – thrashes about, desperately trying to shake it off.

The other two dragons stir, watching their struggling partner with concern, unsure of what action to take until Magneton’s Zap Cannon begins charging. They look back at each other and nod before interfering. The bulky one swoops down to help while the other sparks briefly and fires a Thunder Wave at Magneton. It hits, but not before Magneton unleashes its attack on the Outraging Dragonite. He screeches, his wings go stiff, he falls and disappears, and before Ethan can register what happened, Magneton has been thrown into a wall.

Magneton’s new attacker sneers at it, growling softly and seemingly ready to strike at any moment. Dazed, Magneton hovers a few inches away from the wall, and after a moment, it spins its magnets patiently, eyes glowing and locking on to the second Dragonite.

His antennae spark, sending Magneton’s magnets into a frenzy. It quickly charges a Zap Cannon and fires, long before Dragonite has a chance to release his Thunder. Instead, he shoots up to avoid the attack, but the orb of electricity pursues him and strikes one of his wings. He cries out in pain and falls, disappearing before he touches the ground.

The only one left is the small Dragonite, who looks down at Magneton with disdain and calculating eyes. He stares, tilts his head, and without warning shoots a stream of fire from his mouth. 

And of course it’s at that moment that the full effect of Thunder Wave hits, and Ethan has no idea what to do other than yell at Magneton to move. But vines suddenly wrap themselves around Magneton’s body and pull it toward the ground, and while Ethan is glad Magneton was saved, he knows that only means Meganium will be pulled into the fray.

Dragonite spits out an ember, all the while glaring at Magneton’s savior. He snaps his teeth and releases another Fire Blast. And despite Ethan’s repetitive shouts to get out of the way, Meganium stays there, turning to her side to shield Magneton with her body, and puts up a Light Screen.

Fire Blast collides into the Light Screen, and while half of the flames are safely deflected, the other half leeches through the wall of light, singeing the flower on Meganium’s neck and blackening the edges of its petals. When the fire dies out, she breathlessly runs to Ethan and gently places Magneton on the ground.

Upon seeing Ethan’s worried face, she nuzzles him and licks his cheek and the scent of Arcanine lilies fills the air, reminding Ethan of when he first met her. He smiles a little, despite himself, and pets her head. “Stop being so selfless.”

She smiles, but she looks at the Dragonite to bring Ethan’s attention back to the fight. Flames are already crackling at the Dragonite’s teeth, making Ethan’s heart rate suddenly spike. But just as Dragonite is about to release another Fire Blast, he’s suddenly swallowed by a pillar of ice. That’s when Ethan notices that Slowbro decided to take matters into her own hands, and when she looks back at him, he’s pretty sure that she’s rebuking him for not having sent her in to fight in the first place.

Fire suddenly streams through the broken windows, destroying the frozen remains of Lance’s final dragon. His Charizard and Aerodactyl fly in, roaring and screeching as they circle Ethan’s Slowbro. She glares up at them, daring them to rear their heads, to swoop down and strike. When they suddenly stop soaring, instead hovering as they stare down at her, she clenches her fists.

Both of them drop their jaws, raw energy gathering and swirling at their lips. Slowbro doesn’t move until the red and white orbs stop growing, right when her foes pull back to unleash dual Hyper Beams – that’s when she slams a fist into the ground, calling up a jagged wall of ice to shield her. Both Hyper Beams obliterate the upper half of the wall, explosively sending shards of ice flying in every direction.

Slowbro peeks out from behind her shattered safeguard, eyeing her panting opponents, and knows this is it. The remnants of her shield begin to waver and simmer, liquefying until she’s holding gallons of water in the air and all her foes can do is helplessly watch. The water lashes out and coils itself around Charizard and Aerodactyl, cocooning them in its chilly embrace, letting them struggle until they’re no longer moving and they vanish with the water.

Lance just stares at the empty space where his Charizard and Aerodactyl were. Eventually his eyes wander to the statue at his right and then back to Ethan, who’s marveling at how even the windows have restored themselves during the battle. Lance crosses his arms. “Well, you’re better than our current superior,” he says suddenly.

For whatever reason, that brings Ethan’s attention to his smiling Meganium, whose petals are regenerating. Ethan looks at her worriedly and puts a hand on her head. “If you say so,” he mutters.

Lance flickers and nods, rather stiffly, so Ethan figures he’s not happy about losing. At the very least, he’s more graceful about it than Karen was. “Either way,” Lance says, and Ethan gives him his full attention, “things are going to be different from here on out.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ethan turns to Silver. “Part of that being that you’re going back to Red, right?”

Silver nods. “Correct. I wish you luck from here on out.”

“Thanks,” he says with a smile. “I don’t really know what Red’s got planned but, I have about eight more people to meet, right?”

“Approximately, yes.”

Ethan nods, looks away, and bites his cheek. He knows something isn’t right. Or won’t be. He doesn’t know what exactly, but it makes his heart sink and he clenches his fists without realizing it. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, and when he looks up to ask Silver one last question, he’s facing a rock wall. He scowls. He can’t say he’s surprised Silver disappeared, but it makes him more than just annoyed.

His heart beats quickly again. He feels abandoned, but he doesn’t know why.


	19. Floor Ten

“Welcome.”

When Ethan turns, Brock is standing there, not too far away from him, leaning against the rock wall he was previously staring at.

Ethan furrows his eyebrows a bit, prompting another line from the flickering man. “To the second half of your journey.”

He wasn’t expecting Brock. He was expecting… Well, he couldn’t remember names at the moment but he was expecting that muscular man who looked more like he belonged in an army platoon than in a power plant of sorts. And then he also expected Misty.

But why he remembers her name is beyond him.

“Thanks?”

Brock chuckles and crosses his arms, but the air fills with the sound of static as he moves. “These next couple of… tests will be different from your last ones.”

Ethan nods. “I know that.”

“Do you know how?”

No, he doesn’t. Because of course he remembers vague, useless information but can’t remember anything that could actually be helpful to him.

“You’re getting closer,” Brock supplies. “Red needs to make sure you’ll know what to do. That’s why we’re here.”

Ethan glances around at the landscape and walks around a bit. Rocks, dry earth, cliffs, and there are mountains in the distance. He has a feeling he’s supposed to figure out for himself what he’s supposed to learn, but there’s no harm in looking around for a clue. If there is one. “So, what are you supposed to teach me?”

Brock chuckles again. “I can’t tell you that.” Of course. “You’ll have to figure that out on your own, and you can’t move on until you do.”

The ground rumbles beneath Ethan’s feet, gently at first, so softly that he thinks he’s imagining things. But the tremors grow stronger, enough to make him take a shaky step back to balance himself. The earth rips open, and a towering Onix rises from the giant crack in the ground mere inches from Brock’s feet. Only about half of Onix’s body pokes out before he stops moving and he turns his gaze on Ethan.

“Do you remember the rules?” Brock asks.

Somehow, he does. One of his creatures against one of theirs, no switches, no substitutes, none of that.

In the hopes of making this quicker, Ethan considers sending in Slowbro or Meganium (although, frankly, he’s still worried about that Fire Blast she took), but he ultimately decides to let Rhydon handle this one; Silver might otherwise scold him for neglecting them again. Rhydon loyally appears at his side, tall and unyielding, and it’s in that moment that Onix decides to burrow back underground.

“An Earthquake should be good enough,” Ethan muses, barely loudly enough for Rhydon to hear him.

Rhydon thumps his tail against the dirt a few times, trying to get a bearing on the Onix’s location. He stomps heavily, cracking the dry earth beneath his feet and sending a shock wave through the ground. The tremors spread, and Ethan eagerly awaits the Onix’s expulsion from the earth, but he’s puzzled when nothing happens.

Rhydon looks around in search of a visual clue that could give away his opponent’s location, but there’s nothing. His Earthquake dies down and everything is still for a moment until he feels the earth rumbling again. Onix is moving.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” Brock says suddenly, casually leaning against the rock wall and seemingly disinterested in the battle. He glances at Ethan, whose eyes are flitting about in search of the Onix. Brock crosses his arms, flickering in the process. “That none of us really know anything about you?”

Ethan quickly looks over at him and just as quickly goes back to scanning the ground. “No,” he answers dismissively.

“No?” Brock repeats. He looks to the clear sky. “Hm. Maybe you should inform us of a few things.”

The rumbling grows stronger, and Ethan’s pretty sure it’s coming from somewhere on his right, so he calls for another Earthquake. Rhydon stomps on the ground again, jagged fissures racing along the dirt in the hopes of trapping their target and forcing him to the surface. But again nothing happens, and Ethan feels other tremors coming from behind him.

He grits his teeth and points at a, truthfully random, spot of earth behind him. “There!”

Brock makes an impatient sound as Rhydon unleashes another ineffectual Earthquake. He looks down at Ethan and asks, “Well?”

Ethan glances back at him, trying to divide his attention between him and the Onix that he’s pretty sure is snaking around somewhere to his left. “Is now really the time?”

“Of course.”

He scowls before directing Rhydon’s next Earthquake, scoffing when it doesn’t yield any results. “What exactly do you want me to say?”

“Something about yourself,” Brock answers simply.

Ethan turns to Rhydon, watching him unleash Earthquake after Earthquake, still somehow managing not to hit the enormous beast underground. He’s almost certain that Brock is cheating at this point. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

Ethan looks at him suspiciously, and when he glances back at another failed Earthquake, it clicks. “Quit distracting me.”

“I’m not distracting you,” he responds calmly.

“Then stop asking me questions.”

“Why?”

Ethan clenches his fists. “Well, I can’t answer them!” he yells impatiently.

Brock sighs. “How do you plan on getting anywhere when you don’t even know who you are?”

Ethan furrows his eyebrows and stares at him in confusion. “What?” he whispers.

Brock shrugs and turns his attention back to the sky.

The wind picks up. That’s enough to remind Ethan of breezy nights spent sleeping in the grass and… That’s all. That’s all he can remember. His heart starts to panic again. He clenches his fists. He can’t remember anything else, and it terrifies him. 

He does remember meeting Silver that one day, however long ago that was. He even remembers thinking that Silver needed a haircut. And he remembers everything that happened after that with excruciating detail. But his life before that… He only draws a blank.

When did that happen?

But he does remember his parents, though he has no idea what happened to them. Yes, his father who always asked for too much, and his mother who always had that piercing gaze, what with her red eyes. But they fought far too often for their own –

No. That was Red’s life. And he thinks he’s been forgetting that.

So what can he say? Ethan looks back at Rhydon, who’s staring at him patiently. But for what? Why is he waiting when he has an Onix to locate?

Brock stuffs his flickering hands in his pockets and looks down at his shoes. “At this rate, you’ll be stuck here forever.”

And instead, Ethan thinks about his reactions to everything on his journey. He thinks about the way he speaks, the way he acts, how he selfishly wanted to sacrifice the creatures that have followed him, how he has grown to care for them. He thinks of how he treats them, of how he treats everyone he has come across, of how he treats Silver.

And it all makes sense.

Rhydon smiles at him, as if he knows what’s going on in Ethan’s mind. He thumps his tail against the ground, the dirt cracking from the force, and he lifts a heavy foot for one final Earthquake. The earth sinks beneath the crushing weight of the blow and billows around him, undulating like water until the roaring Onix is caught in the movement and half his body is forced above ground.

Ethan grins. Of course that’s how it works. “Iron Tail!”

Rhydon runs up to the beast with a speed that Ethan didn’t know he could obtain. Onix desperately tries to collect himself and burrow back underground, but Rhydon slams a glowing white tail into Onix’s jaw, leaving cracks in his weathered face. Onix quickly lurches forward to grab Rhydon with his teeth, but Rhydon jumps back and he only gets a mouthful of dirt. Rhydon sweeps around, striking Onix’s face with another Iron Tail.

Onix screeches horribly, making Ethan wince and cover his ears. But the grating sound dies mercifully and quickly when the behemoth drops to the ground, weak and unwilling to move. Rhydon, however, cautiously watches his opponent for any sudden movement until Brock pushes away from the rock wall and says, “Congrats.”

Rhydon drops his stance and looks back at Ethan, who’s walking up to him with a smile on his face. Ethan quietly praises him for his work before turning to Brock. “Thanks.”

Brock shakes his head and holds out a flickering hand. “Don’t forget who you are.”

Ethan hesitantly shakes it, surprised at how strong Brock’s grip is despite the way his hand blinks out of existence. But he ignores it, smiles, and says, “I know. Keep myself grounded.”


	20. Floor Eleven

Brock disappears in the middle of their handshake, and it’s strange how it feels, the firm hand of another person fizzling in his hold, like pins and needles against his palm. Then Brock is gone with the crackle of static and all that’s left is the arid earth.

Ethan expected something else. Maybe another blinding flash of light, or even sudden unconsciousness, to keep him from watching the world shift around him – the mountains sinking into the ground, grass and trees sprouting from dry soil, a dojo materializing in what is now a forest clearing.

It’s not as strange a sight as it should be, to watch these things appear and disappear without explanation. Instead, Ethan finds himself more preoccupied with the sound of birds in the trees. When he thinks about it, it’s quite possibly the most normal thing about his journey so far. And it reminds him of the grassy plains outside his home, where he met Silver.

The dojo is a modest building, and the only building as far as Ethan can see. It’s fairly obvious that he needs to go there, to meet… well, he can’t remember who.

He hears Xatu chattering something beside him, and while Ethan can’t understand him, he can guess at what he’s trying to say. “You want this to be your fight?”

Xatu nods.

Ethan smiles and gestures for him to enter the dojo with him.

Ethan opens the doors, sliding them into their pockets in the wall, hesitating to close them when he sees that no one’s inside. In fact, there’s barely anything inside the dojo save for three white mats on the floor and a few things against the back wall: an unsheathed sword and two small, thin vases of water, all placed on a shelf.

He shuts the doors and steps inside, keeping an eye on Xatu as the bird wanders around and eventually stops to stare at the shelf’s contents.

The building reminds him of Koga, but that can’t be who’s next. It’s someone like him, no?

“Welcome.”

The voice startles him, despite the fact that, in that moment, he remembers that it’s Janine who he’s supposed to meet.

“You arrived sooner than I expected,” she tells him, watching Xatu fly up to get a better look at the sword. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Ethan shakes his head as she closes the doors behind herself, wondering why she would apologize for making him wait a few more seconds. “It’s not a problem.”

“Please,” she says as she makes her way to the back of the room. She gestures to the mats. “Take a seat.”

He does so, facing the back wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, careful not the touch the mat in front of him with his shoes. Xatu stands on the mat beside him, curiously watching Janine take the sword and one of the vases from the shelf.

They remain silent as Janine returns to them with the unsheathed sword in her right hand and the vase in her left, and Ethan has no idea what she plans on doing with a weapon and water.

She frowns and taps his shoes with the tip of the sword, producing a sound like static. She doesn’t need to speak to let him know that he should sit properly, so he crosses his legs and drums his fingers against his knees as he waits for Janine to kneel on the mat in front of him and say something.

But she doesn’t speak. Instead, she sets the vase down on the floor, lays the double-edged sword across her arms, and presents it to him.

Ethan looks at her strangely, but he reaches for the hilt nonetheless. “Why are you –”

Janine pulls the sword back suddenly and glares at him, her sudden movement and sharp expression cutting him off. She presents it to him again, emphasizing how her flickering arms are held out in front of her. Ethan mimics her, allowing her to lay the sword across his arms.

The first thing about the sword that strikes him is how light it is. The second is his remarkably sharp reflection along the blade. He runs his thumb along the flat side of the blade, careful not to cut himself on the edge. It’s incredibly slick.

He looks up to ask again why she gave him a sword, but she’s suddenly hovering over him, ready to pour water onto the blade. “I want you to keep the drop of water from running off the edges of the blade for as long as you can,” she tells him.

“Um… Okay.” A strange test, no doubt, but he complies nonetheless. All he needs to do is hold the sword at the right angle and voila, right?

Except the blade is apparently as slippery as it is shiny, and the droplet rolls around like a solid bead, leaving behind no streaks or, really, any evidence at all that the blade was ever in contact with water. It takes him about a minute to get the droplet to settle. He figures the blade has been very well waterproofed.

When he’s certain the droplet isn’t going anywhere, he glances up at Janine, who’s watching him rather intensely. He stares back at her for a little bit, occasionally looking down at the sword to make sure the water hasn’t rolled off, before asking, “What exactly is the point of this?”

She frowns. “You’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“What?”

She glances at the sword, and Ethan follows suit. The water has rolled off the blade and onto his pants. He rolls his eyes and reluctantly lets Janine pour another drop of water on the blade.

It’s not as slippery as it was before, and he thinks five minutes have passed when something pink and purple flashes suddenly in the reflection along the blade. He instinctively looks up to see what it was only to find Janine’s Venomoth fluttering in the air above him. He decides to ignore it and looks back down at the sword to find that, once again, the water has rolled off.

He glares at Janine as she pours more water on the blade, ignoring how her form fades in and out of existence. “You guys must really like distracting me and wasting my time, huh.”

She looks at him, eyes widened with shock and filled with snow. “I’m sorry?”

He scowls and pays attention to the droplet. “This is all a waste of time,” he mutters. “There’s no point to it.”

She stays silent for a moment, mulling over her thoughts and contemplating how to word them. She gently places the vase on the floor. “Who are you?”

He cautiously looks up at her, trying to keep most of his attention on the sword, and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Ethan,” he carefully answers, unsure of what exactly she’s asking him, of what exactly she’s doing, of what he’s doing. He wishes she’d hurry up and just get to the point, for once.

“Not Gold, correct?”

“Yeah.” If he wasn’t so annoyed, he might be glad someone is finally disregarding what feels like Silver’s pet name for him.

“Then you wouldn’t know what the point of this is. Not until you are Gold.”

He completely forgets about the sword, tilting it forward and letting the water roll off. “What are you talking about?”

Janine glances at the blade with unsteady eyes. “Again.”

Ethan grits his teeth, resisting the urge to drop the weapon on the floor. “It’s hard to focus on this when you keep distracting me, you know,” he tells her as she pours more water on the blade.

She smiles. “I only do so in order to know if you’re doing what you need to do. But at least you know what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Right,” he mumbles as she settles down on her mat again.

He tries to relax after staring at the water and his reflection for about a minute, especially since he feels a little on edge with the very likely possibility that Janine or her Venomoth will try something. And he wants to get this boring test over with already so he can move on. He tries to keep an eye on Janine, an eye on the entire reflection along the length of the blade, tries to listen to the beat of Venomoth’s wings, to any movements at all in the silent room. And, of course, keep the sword balanced.

So he’s not caught completely off guard when he realizes Venomoth is swooping down for him and about to Tackle his face.

He tenses up, closing his thumbs around the edge of the blade and cutting himself in the process. He hisses. And he’s honestly surprised the water hasn’t rolled off yet. “Xatu!”

Xatu shoots up without hesitation, beak poised to tear through the thin membrane of Venomoth’s wing. But just before he can strike, Venomoth disappears, and all that’s in front of him is the wooden roof. He makes a steep dive to avoid crashing into it and looks around frantically for his opponent.

Ethan looks up and takes a deep breath when he notices that Venomoth is nowhere in sight. It’s relieving on one hand, to know her unnerving eyes weren’t waiting an inch in front of his face for him to look at her. But it brings suspicion, and Ethan’s certain she’ll pop up in a matter of seconds. He shifts his fingers around the blade, frowning at the mild, stinging discomfort of the cut on his thumb.

He glances around the room for any sign of Venomoth, trying to keep his ears open to her fluttering and trying to keep quick eyes on the sword, but he gives up after a minute of fruitless searching and decides to just watch the water for another half-hour.

Of course, that’s when those giant, piercing, unblinking eyes are suddenly staring back at him from the blade, and it’s startling enough to make him jump, to make him close his fingers around the blade again and nearly cut himself.

He grits his teeth, annoyed that she managed to scare him. “Psychic!”

He feels the air shudder with Xatu’s attack, but the eyes vanish from the sword before anything happens. Xatu chirps his discontent, perhaps voicing the same frustration Ethan feels.

“Just focus,” Ethan says, staring intently at his reflection. “Just stay focused and you’ll catch her before she even reappears.”

He’s saying that more to himself than to Xatu, he knows that. He’s certain Xatu knows as well, just by how hushed his words sounded. After all, he’s just reminding himself of how this works. Because this is old, this is routine. This is the same thing he did for however many years he can and can’t think back on, so it shouldn’t be difficult to realize the patterns in the air, the way it shifted when anyone breathed or moved or disappeared and reappeared. It shouldn’t be difficult to note the faint hum in the room just before Venomoth resurfaces, or to notice the small smile on Janine’s shimmering face when she can tell that he’s finally getting it.

“The door.”

Xatu takes off like a bullet. Ethan doesn’t need to look up to know that. It’s more than enough to hear him shoot across the room, and to hear him tear through Venomoth’s wing just as she emerges. But it doesn’t convince him that his test is over, so he’s skeptical of Janine’s congratulations until she takes the sword back the same way she presented it to him.

Ethan looks back toward the entrance, watching as Venomoth’s wings flicker and heal themselves. “That… was really all I had to do? Just not be bothered by you two?” He looks at Janine incredulously. It was that simple? It almost makes him feel stupid.

She shakes her head. Her hair crackles with the movement. “More than that. But you already know, don’t you.”

He blinks. He probably does, deep down in that part of his subconscious that fails time and time again to help him.

Janine smiles and grabs the sword by the hilt to stand, letting the water roll back into the vase that she takes in her other hand.

Ethan rises as well, only to be met by his disappointed Xatu, and he can’t help but smile a little. He puts a hand on Xatu’s head. “Hey, I know it wasn’t the action you were hoping for, but thanks.”

Xatu chirps at him curiously and nods, and Ethan thinks that might be a faint smile in Xatu’s eyes.

He turns back to Janine, who’s standing there patiently and expectantly, like there’s something he’s supposed to say. Except he doesn’t know what that something is so he just stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, “Uh, thanks.”

She shakes her head. “No need.”

She lifts the vase up and pours the water onto the floor, which strikes Ethan as a little odd considering all the time he spent trying to prevent just a drop of water from touching the floor. 

But stranger still is the sheer amount of water gushing from the small container. It can’t possibly hold more than a few ounces of water, but he’s sure gallons of it spill out and roll to the front doors. He looks back to follow the water, but he doesn’t think to say anything for a few moments. And when he does and he faces forward, the floorboards are turning into grass and pebbles, and the water from the vase has become a stream.


	21. Floor Twelve

He knows he should walk downstream, that he should turn around and move in the opposite direction that he’s facing, but something tells him to go against the current. Not to find out where the water is coming from, but because he has a feeling Misty is up there.

The thought of her makes his heart swell with what he thinks is childish joy and anticipation, and it reminds him of a crush he might have had on a girl when he was in the fifth grade. But why? He knows next to nothing about Misty except that she’s a swimmer. And he thinks she has a good personality, if he remembers correctly. But that’s it. She’s a cool person, a swimmer, with a surprisingly scrawny body, frizzy orange hair, freckles, bright eyes, a cute laugh, a beautiful smile…

He jolts himself out of it and shakes the thoughts away with something like disgust. The feeling in his chest goes away. “Ugh, Red, shut up.”

Red?

The stream has become wider – much wider – by the time he looks up. It’s a full-fledged river now, flowing lazily along the base of a mountain. Misty is there sitting on the bank, with her legs in the water and her attention on the sole Lapras swimming near her.

He scowls when the feeling comes back.

Lapras catches sight of him and makes a high-pitched sound, almost like a respectful greeting.

Misty turns to look at him with wide, flickering eyes and smiles when she, apparently, recognizes him. “Hey!” she says as she stands up, brushing away whatever blades of grass might have stuck themselves to her backside. “I was wondering where you were.”

She changed her hair. And got a tan. And looks older. And better in her new bathing suit. And…

And judging by the look on her face, he’s been staring at her for a while. “Um.” He coughs awkwardly and looks away, choosing to focus on the trees on the other side of the river. He’s trying to get the thoughts _that most certainly are not his_ to go away, but he can’t stop frantically wondering how the hell he’s supposed to respond to her and why he apparently forgot how to talk.

“I… got lost,” he eventually says, heart pounding in his throat. What is this.

Amused, Misty smiles slyly. “Okay. Anyway,” she says, barely hiding a giggle that doesn’t help the heat on Ethan’s face whatsoever, “are you ready for your next test or do you need a moment to collect yourself?”

He glares at the tree and brusquely responds, “No, I’m fine.”

Misty shrugs. “If you say so. Come on.”

Ethan glances over at her to see her climbing onto the Lapras, settling herself near the creature’s tail. His heart starts swooning over the prospect of a romantic trip along the river and it only aggravates him. He scowls at the grass. Red’s being an annoying brat and it doesn’t even make any sense. He grits his teeth. “Red, shut up.”

Misty looks over at him and raises an eyebrow. “Did you just tell Red to shut up?”

Ethan exhales through his nose and makes his way to the Lapras with his hands in his pockets. “No,” he says, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe because that would be too surreal? Or no?

Misty grins at him and drums her fingers against Lapras’ shell. “Yes you did. Is that why you’re acting all flustered?” she teases.

He looks her in the eye this time, not feeling nervous or warm, aside from that little jump in his chest. At least, for the most part, he’s composed.

She chuckles. “Sorry. Red kinda had a thing for me when we first met. But, that was before he found out all that stuff so, don’t worry about it,” she says, waving her hand in the air like she’s shooing away Red’s feelings for her.

And maybe that _is_ what she’s doing because his heart shrinks with disappointment before it starts returning to something more Ethan-like. But that doesn’t distract him from her words. “Before he found out what?” He stops right in front her, like he’s refusing to get on the Lapras until she gives him a straightforward answer.

She blinks owlishly and her image shimmers. “What, you haven’t remembered?”

He huffs and frowns. He’s heard that enough to know it’s code for “I can’t tell you anything” so he steps on without a further word, situating himself at Lapras’ neck, careful not to sit on the blunt lumps on her shell.

Lapras kicks off once Ethan’s comfortable, never once protesting the tight hold he has around her neck. He watches the water nervously, unsure of whether or not he knows how to swim.

He turns his attention to what’s before him while trying to keep an eye on the rock walls approaching them as they enter the valley. “So what do I have to do?” he asks, trying not to think about how probable it is that he’ll end up almost drowning at some point.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out,” Misty responds all too casually. It certainly doesn’t help him place any confidence in her.

The rock walls are tall enough to block out the sunlight, and the shadows they cast make Ethan nervous but he’s not sure why. He shifts his gaze from one mass of stone to the other, both of which are several yards away from him, in search of something that might warrant such anxiety.

He doesn’t think to check the river for a lurking predator.

The freezing water slams the side of his head, leaving him wondering when he fell into the river, if he even did. But he feels Lapras’ smooth scales under his arms and he holds on tighter. Between the shock and the cold, his body is begging for him to breathe, but he knows if he does, he’ll just inhale water and choke. He clamps his lips, hoping the attack will stop, and when it does, air rushes into his lungs so quickly it makes him cough.

He shudders, and when he’s finally caught his breath, he turns wide eyes to whatever attacked him from the right.

A Starmie is floating in the water, jewel blinking like it’s laughing at him. It leaps out of the river, spins, and dives back under, disappearing from Ethan’s sight almost instantly.

He veers around to glare at Misty. His arms are still wrapped tightly around Lapras, mostly in case the Starmie attacks him again and knocks him off, partially because he’s freezing. “What was that for?!”

Misty, who has made herself comfortable enough to lie down on her Lapras’ shell, looks up at him innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No, but your Starmie did!” he retorts.

“Oh.” She looks away briefly, as if pondering her next words, before coming back to him. “Well, that’s kind of what it’s supposed to do.”

He yanks the front of his shirt away from his chest to prove his point, feeling how the fabric, heavy with water, gravitates toward him. “It’s supposed to soak me?!”

Misty grins. “Well, not _that_ part specifically, but if it has to soak you to do its job,” she says as she stretches her arms out and pillows her head on her hands, moving with the sound of static, “then I’m okay with it.” She shuts her eyes, perfectly content to take a nap.

He lets go of his shirt. “I’m not!”

Her smile grows, but her eyes stay closed. “We’re going through a river anyway. You’re gonna get soaked regardless.”

Ethan scoffs and faces forward. He doesn’t have time to grumble about her response because he’s too busy trying to process the water rushing through jagged rocks, and he’s pretty sure those weren’t there the last time he looked. It takes him a bit to realize that they’re headed there. On a giant Lapras. Through narrow paths lined with sharp, deadly rocks. Great.

He grits his teeth and readjusts his grip on Lapras. He’s getting tired of stupid tricks like this. “Now how is that supposed to work,” he spits.

“I dunno,” Misty responds. “Figure it out.”

“You’re no help,” he grumbles.

He scans the rocks for the safest opening to guide Lapras through, but white briefly flashes before him and suddenly the river is thrashing them around, shoving Ethan against the rock wall that is _much_ closer than it was before, scraping his bare arm and eliciting a cry of pain from him. He instinctively holds himself closer to Lapras, who wails elegantly, like she’s singing about how uncomfortable it is to swim through this while _someone_ holds her so tightly he’s choking her.

“Sorry,” Ethan manages to get out, trying to get his bearings. The walls are on top of them, the river is white with foam and power, and Lapras is somehow, but barely, managing not to get caught in the stones littering the rapids. Ice cold water is spilling into his sneakers and drowning his feet, but that’s not a concern. It’s uncomfortable, sure, but not more uncomfortable than being thrown against rocks by water of all things, and certainly not more upsetting than the Starmie up ahead jumping from rock to rock like a pebble skipping along the water.

It jumps up and spins, flying further into the distance like a disk. And with all the water threatening to blind him, Ethan barely catches the thing sparking with electricity.

He doesn’t think before shouting, “Ice Beam!”

Lapras fires the attack without hesitation, a sporadic ray of light shooting from her mouth and striking the Starmie before it could do much. It falls into the river, but it jumps out soon after and flies off. The rapids seem to disappear with it, as the river calms almost immediately, and Lapras is able to navigate herself into clearer waters.

Ethan cranes his neck, as if that would allow him to see what lies around the bend in the river, but he’s distracted by a poke in his calf. He turns around to see Misty, flickering wet hair and all, frowning at him.

“That’s cheating,” she tells him.

It takes him a moment to figure out what exactly she means, but when he does, he glances back at Lapras. “Oh.” He looks back at Misty and shrugs. “Sorry. Uh, I guess… I could use Xatu.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied, or surprised even, when Xatu suddenly swoops down like he has been hovering above them all along. She goes back to pretending she’s napping as Xatu flits about curiously now that the river has widened again and the walls of stone have tapered off.

In fact, Ethan doesn’t think about where Xatu came from, but he realizes he’s never wondered about that with Xatu or any of the others before. He just watches Xatu skim the water with his beak as he tries to see what’s swimming beneath the surface. Ethan can’t help but laugh when a Magikarp flops out and splashes Xatu, startling him and driving him back into the sky.

Xatu quickly falls behind, choosing to examine some flowers as he soars over the riverbank instead of keeping up with Lapras. “Xatu,” Ethan calls out. Xatu looks up and chirps when he hears Ethan, ignoring the plants and soaring to him. Ethan smiles. Xatu reminds him of a child. “Consider this me making up for last time.”

Xatu clicks his beak and nods before taking to the skies again.

“And don’t get distracted!”

Xatu chirps once, but he follows up with a frenzy of clicks and shrieks just before Ethan’s vision flashes again. Suddenly they’re in the middle of the ocean, the current is pulling poor Lapras backwards, and none of this makes any sense.

All Ethan knows, somehow, is that this is Starmie’s doing, and he searches for its shining red gem amidst the swirling waves, trying to ignore Lapras’ smooth but panicked cries.

He spots it in the eye of the swirl, gem blinking with mirth. It’s mocking him, no doubt. Ethan looks up at Xatu, who’s already hovering above the Starmie. “Just hit it with Fly! Hard enough to get the whirlpool to stop!”

Xatu dives down without another word, but long before he can reach his target, Ethan catches the Starmie blinking rapidly and he gets it. He knows the game now. He just needs to play accordingly, but that doesn’t stop the fear that suddenly seizes his heart. “Up! Go back up!”

Xatu spreads his wings to catch air and float back up just before the ocean changes into a thick sheet of ice and the sky becomes the ceiling of a frosty cave. Lapras settles herself in the icy water, and Ethan grants himself permission to breath, glad that Xatu didn’t absolutely shatter his skull against the ice and smear his blood all over it.

Shuddering, Ethan turns to glare at Misty, who’s apparently napping contently despite the cold and her Starmie’s arguably homicidal behavior. “How are you sleeping?”

“I’m not,” she sighs. “I’m just sitting back and waiting for you to get it already. I think you’re almost there, though.” She peers at him through half-shut eyes and grins. “You saved your Xatu from kinda dying.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

She shuts her eyes again, and when she laughs, it sounds distorted and computerized. “Oh, don’t act like we actually help you,” she comments, voice sounding normal again.

Ethan looks ahead, getting a feel for his new surroundings as he holds himself against Lapras’ neck, hoping beyond reason that it will provide him with warmth. Wherever they are, it’s just frozen walls and floors. Premature icebergs are floating on the water’s surface. And it’s surprisingly calm. Xatu decides to take the moment to explore a little bit.

Ethan sighs, ignoring the cloud that escapes past his lips. He grits his teeth to keep them from chattering. “Good point.” He feels the raised hairs on his arms icing over, and he wonders how Misty is okay with this. He glances down at her. She looks perfectly fine. There aren’t even bumps on her skin aside from the static occasionally crawling across her.

She shrugs. “Granted, I may as well say you already passed. I mean, you’ve been doing this since you met Silver.”

“What, just going with it?” He rolls his eyes and faces forward, pulling his elbows as close to himself as physically possibly. “Yeah,” he shudders.

He doesn’t see her grin.

Instead, he hears Starmie skating along the ice well before he sees the slowly blinking red. “Great,” he grumbles. He looks to Xatu, who’s pecking at some ice in the water. “Just aim for the gem,” he tells him, getting his attention. “Maybe we can get it to bring us back to the river instead.”

Xatu nods, takes flight, and keeps his eyes trained on the sheet of ice before Lapras. Starmie’s light blinks a few times as it approaches them, like it’s laughing, and Xatu takes the opportunity to swoop down to get the first hit.

“Hidden Power!” Ethan commands.

Several orbs of light surround Xatu and linger briefly before shooting forward like bullets, aimed for the jewel at Starmie’s center.

Its light flickers rapidly, but the orbs crash into it before Ethan’s vision can go white, and they’re back in the river, winding through a hilly meadow.

Ethan looks around in search of the Starmie, expecting to see it dancing on the water like it’s teasing him, but he’s unpleasantly surprised to find it just floating on the water’s surface, its gem glowing softly. It worries him for whatever reason. In fact, he’s worried because he thinks he might have killed it, and he has no idea why that matters all of a sudden. He hears Misty moving behind him, certainly trying to look at what’s going on, and it makes him more anxious.

But the gem lights up, bright enough to make the ruby shine white, and Starmie jumps back into the air, spinning feverishly.

Ethan’s relieved, but at the same time, he almost feels disappointed when it gets back up. He just wants to finish this already. “Fly!”

Xatu shoots forward with a shriek, and he keeps rushing for the Starmie even after it starts sparking.

Not good. Ethan’s breath catches in his throat. If it hits, Xatu’s dead. If it misses, the lightning hits the water and _he’s_ dead. “Stop, pull back!” he yells, and he has no idea if he’s actually trying to save Xatu or not. So what? What can he do?

He frantically shouts for the first thing that comes to mind. “Psychic!” Which is brilliant, once he thinks about it. He grins. He’s fairly certain he already won. “Use its attack against it!”

Xatu’s eyes glow as brightly as Starmie’s gem did. Thunder races for him, but it stops well before it reaches him, crackling and writhing in Xatu’s telekinetic hold before it veers around and swallows Starmie.

It’s strange, almost scary, how eerily silent the Starmie is even as it’s being fried by its own attack. It reminds Ethan of Lance’s Gyarados, even though the thing disappears before it plummets into the river.

“Well you didn’t have to go _that_ far,” Misty comments. She’s pouting a bit when Ethan looks at her, but she doesn’t seem sad or too disappointed. And by the time Lapras reaches the riverbank and they get off, she’s smiling through the static again.

“Look at that, you didn’t need any help at all,” she tells him as she wrings some water out of her hair, reminding Ethan of his waterlogged shoes and socks.

He shrugs. He tries to slide his hands in his pockets, but seeing how adamant his pants are about clinging to his skin, he settles for hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “All I had to do was… well, go with the flow,” he says, hoping she’d pardon what may be an unintentional water pun.

“Yep, just go with it.” She smiles at him. “The world’s never going to go the way you want it to, so just work with it.”

He eyes her for putting it so… strangely. It feels a bit familiar. “Yeah, I know.”

“I know.” She grins, bearing her teeth. “Now, the next place you need to go is over there.” She points into the distance, and Ethan follows without thinking about it. There’s a building far in that direction, but he doesn’t bother to really look at it. As he turns back to thank Misty for being the only one kind of enough to actually tell him what he needs to do next, he realizes she won’t be there.

And she isn’t. Neither is her Lapras. Even the river is disappearing, its water sinking into the ground. Soil takes its place, fluidly rising up, hardening into asphalt before winding its way to the building and marking Ethan’s path. Xatu swoops down and lands on the road carefully, testing it with his beak.

Ethan takes a closer look at the building, and he groans. It’s a power plant. And he knows exactly what that means.


	22. Floor Thirteen

He thinks he’s been sitting by the ex-river for hours now, just staring at a cloudless blue sky. In truth, he’s a bit surprised Silver hasn’t come to drag him to Surge by now, but he’s not questioning it. Why would he, when he didn’t even question the Snorlax that showed up a while ago, wobbling over to him to try to hug him. Or eat him. Ethan still isn’t entirely sure about that one.

But at least Rhydon intervened and kept the Snorlax from crushing Ethan under his massive weight. Looking over at them, Ethan can see that Rhydon is keeping the lug at bay, since Snorlax still seems intent on hugging or eating Ethan, judging by the wistful look on his face.

Ethan feels bad about it, but he’s not sure what to do with this new addition. It’s been a while since anyone else joined him. He wonders briefly why that is, but he’s distracted when Meganium comes over to nuzzle him, and he gets the feeling that she missed him. It makes him smile, whether it’s true or not, and he strokes her neck affectionately.

Slowbro grunts beside him. Ethan turns to look at her, and he’s not surprised to see the irritated look on her face, no doubt from the lack of fights she’s participated in as of late. He chuckles and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I have to give everyone else a chance, too,” he tells her with a smile.

Meganium hums in agreement, but Slowbro just grunts and looks away.

Ethan takes the moment to watch the others: Magneton keeps floating toward the power plant and retreating, spinning his magnets like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to leave; Primeape is by himself further up the road, tugging at some grass and looking spectacularly bored; Xatu is poking at bushes that turn out to be frightened hordes of Oddish; Snorlax is currently sleeping, drool sliding down his cheek; and Rhydon is now facing Ethan expectantly, like he’s waiting to be told what to do.

In a strange way, it reminds Ethan of Silver.

He doesn’t linger on the thought for long and gestures at Rhydon, shooing him away to do whatever he wants. It makes him grin/He grins, amused, when Rhydon looks around uncertainly for a while before turning around and sitting by Snorlax again, like his current job is to make sure Snorlax doesn’t run for Ethan once he wakes up.

Meganium brings Ethan’s attention back to her with a hum. She blinks at him quizzically, like she’s worried about him, but he has no idea why.

“What?”

She looks to the power plant and then back at him, tilting her head and humming in an effort to voice the question she can’t ask.

Ethan looks at the building with disdain. He tries to come up with a way to put his vague thoughts and memories into words, but he huffs when the most apt response he can come up with is “Surge is a bastard, I don’t want to deal with him.”

Meganium frowns.

“He’s… He’s…” He scoffs. “I don’t know, he’s…” Ethan looks at her like she might be able to steer his thoughts in the right direction, but she’s just as clueless as he is. “Bloodthirsty?” he guesses. “Insane?”

Meganium nudges him, as if to get him to stand, but when he says he really doesn’t want to see Surge, she takes the sleeve of his shirt between her teeth and tugs until he, grudgingly, rises to his feet.

“Fine,” he mumbles.

She coos victoriously, despite the deep frown on Ethan’s face.

He doesn’t move, though. He just stuffs his hands in his pockets and examines his sneakers, wondering when they and his socks and his feet, as well as the rest of him, dried up.

Seeing how intent he is on staying put, Meganium eventually pushes him a few steps forward before happily falling in line with him, and he gets the idea that she wants to be at his side the whole time so he won’t have to deal with Surge’s insanity on his own. No, that _is_ what she’s trying to say. And for a moment, he’s too stunned to say or do anything. When she takes another step forward, he smiles and thanks her.

“But you do know you’re not going to be the one fighting, right?”

She nods and smiles. Of course she knew that already.

Ethan turns back to decide who else will go in with them. Everyone is pretty far behind, even Magneton, who still doesn’t know what it wants to do. Everyone aside from Primeape, that is. He’s busying himself with/by kicking at the dirt.

“Primeape!”

Primeape’s ears twitch, and he looks over at Ethan rather shyly, waiting for him to say something.

“Do you want to fight?”

His eyes go wide, expectantly, maybe even admirably so. But he shies away and reconsiders before deciding that, yes, he wants to fight and have something to do for once.

Ethan and Meganium start walking again, and Primeape catches up quickly, but Ethan’s too busy thinking to really notice. He’s too busy wondering why he’s dreading this, why he’s even bothering to go through with this, why he’s walking, _how_ he’s walking when his legs feel so heavy, and his heart keeps pounding, and his breathing is growing more and more ragged –

Something died.

Something died here and he doesn’t remember what or why or even how many, and he _really_ wishes he could at least know why he feels like crying all of a sudden.

Meganium rubs her forehead against his cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to the metal door that he stopped in front of. Regardless of what he can’t remember, he knows he has no choice but to keep going. So he steels himself, takes a deep breath, and enters.

It looks familiar, and that’s a little bit consoling, he supposes – high ceilings, indescribable machinery, poles and beams and tubes all throughout, that’s all familiar. But what he really remembers are the electric fields, jumping from pole to pole, outlining the paths in what he recalls is a maze.

Right. Paths in a power plant marked by deadly walls of electricity. That’s definitely the first bit of evidence that validates Surge’s supposed insanity, and it’s not the least bit comforting.

He’s grateful that Surge at least has the sense to keep the paths at a decent width. He, Meganium, and Primeape can line up side-by-side and they’d still have a few feet to go before reaching the walls on either side.

Room to fight, he figures.

He’s fairly certain that their main objective is to get through the maze and find Surge. And more importantly, they need to get through it quickly, though he doesn’t remember a time limit or anything of the sort.

They don’t take more than a few steps forward before speakers in the ceiling click to life, spitting out Surge’s obnoxious laugh. Ethan grits his teeth, already preparing for the worst.

“Damn, it took you _way_ too fucking long to get in here!” Surge chuckles. “I thought you gave up! I was about to go out there and drag your pussy ass in here, too.”

Reason number two why Ethan doesn’t like Surge.

The speakers stay silent a moment, waiting for Ethan to respond, but he doesn’t say anything.

“What?” they blare. “I just called you a pussy and you’re not even gonna say anything? Fuck, grow a spine, kid, you’re as bad as Red.”

“What do you mean?” Ethan cautiously asks.

Surge laughs again. “I’ll spare you the shitty memories.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. Of course. “So, what, I just have to find you, is that it?” he asks, because the sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he gets rid of Surge.

He scoffs. “You haven’t learned shit, huh. What about the big fight you always end up having? And I know you’re expecting it so don’t act like a fucking moron.”

“Of course I expect it,” he mutters.

“Now look,” Surge continues, apparently not having heard Ethan. “My Raichu’s kinda bored, alright? And he’s a restless littler fucker. So, a word of advice: don’t let him catch you like last time. ‘Cause that was a big fucking massacre, I’ll tell you that much.”

The speakers shut off abruptly. Ethan can only ponder Surge’s last few words for a brief moment before he hears something crackling and popping behind him.

The Raichu is there, cheeks sparking, tail swishing, mouth grinning with evil intent and eyes looking most likely for blood.

Ethan bolts.

Never mind Primeape and Meganium, right now he’s more concerned with saving himself because he’s _seen_ what that thing can do, Red has seen it, and he doesn’t need more than that to trigger his fight-or-flight senses. Adrenaline is what makes his legs move, what forces him down the halls of the maze, what pushes him to turn right, left, right, straight into a dead end and he’s panicking because he has no idea where the Raichu is or where Primeape is or where Meganium is – 

And he has a bad feeling something else died.

He hears thunder, feet scuffling against the floor, grunts from Primeape and Raichu. And when he turns they’re tumbling over each other, biting, scratching, kicking, shocking.

He doesn’t see Meganium, though. His heart pounds even harder and faster and he runs right past Primeape and Raichu, throwing a half-hearted command for Cross Chop over his shoulder because he remembers he needs to beat the little demon no matter what happens. He looks back for a moment and catches Primeape sending Raichu flying straight through the electric wall before clambering to his feet and racing after Ethan.

Ethan runs back the way he came, frantically looking for any flash of green or pink and growing more terrified with each half-second that passes that he doesn’t catch any sign of her. But when he smells her and hears her and sees her standing on four legs and perfectly fine – he almost bursts into tears.

He throws his arms around her neck and blubbers some nonsense that might be “Don’t do that again!” but his thoughts are so muddled that even he can’t tell what he said to her.

He doesn’t have a chance to gather himself before Raichu appears in a flash of light. Ethan’s breath catches in his throat. His stomach clenches, his heart keeps pounding, and his body is screaming at him to run. But he only indulges himself with one step, just _one_ step backward, barely resisting the urge to flee.

Because he can’t. He just _abandoned_ Meganium and Primeape, and he thought he lost one of them as a result. No, he can’t run. He can’t be a coward.

He can’t be like Red.

Raichu breaks into a sprint, trailed by a streak of white light, and despite himself, Ethan takes a few more steps back. Raichu rams his skull into Primeape’s body, but Primeape barely staggers and takes the hit surprisingly well.

“Strength!” Ethan shakily orders.

Primeape grabs Raichu by his arms and effortlessly flings him through another electric wall. Somehow, the way the electricity fades, the way it parts to grant him safe passage – it reminds Ethan of something.

“There’s a switch,” he says quietly. It’s mostly to himself, really, because he knows where the switch is and he knows how to get to it. He just needs to remember.

“There’s a switch,” he repeats, forcefully this time, so he can get the point across to Meganium and Primeape. “We have to find it, and we have to keep that thing from attacking us,” he says, looking in the direction where he thinks Raichu is.

He takes a deep breath, a shaky one despite Meganium’s efforts to soothe him. He scratches her neck absentmindedly, trying to remind himself to think. He takes a quick look around. There’s the path behind him, where he just came from, the path on his right that just seems too easy, the one leading to the entrance, and another that leads elsewhere, where he thinks he might have to go.

The three of them walk in anxious silence, save for the buzzing and humming of the walls. And the longer it continues, the more nervous Ethan gets. He hears something clattering as they make a right turn further down the way, and he turns his head so quickly in search of Raichu that he’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash.

His fears don’t come true until they hit another dead end and the Raichu starts growling behind them. Ethan curses under his breath just as Raichu releases a Thunderbolt, striking Primeape and leaving him screeching like nails on glass. The sound is almost horrid enough to distract Ethan from the foul scent of burnt fur.

But the important thing is that Primeape is still standing when the attack is done. Breathless and smoking, but alive and well.

Which means Ethan can focus on getting Raichu out of their way. “Just throw it out of here with Strength again!”

Primeape gathers enough energy to let out an angry cry and rushes forward, arms poised to grab his sparking opponent. Raichu tries to jump out of the way at the last second, but Primeape latches onto his tail and flings him over the walls again with tremendous force.

The speakers turn on with a pop, but it’s a while before Surge says anything. Ethan takes the silence as a truce of sorts, figuring that Raichu won’t attack if Surge has something to say to him. He backtracks and manages to turn a few more corners before Surge scoffs.

“Fuck, you’re taking forever,” he says, blatantly annoyed. “Look, you’re almost at the damn switch, is that enough to get you to move faster?”

Well, it’s certainly ample motivation, but Ethan’s too busy being cautious to pick up his pace.

Surge continues, “And you know he doesn’t like being thrown around, right?”

Ethan doesn’t hear the speakers click off over the sound of thunder and Primeape’s angry shrieks. When he looks back, the demon is lit like a fire and running straight for Primeape. “Cross Chop!” he shouts over his shoulder before facing forward again, assuming Primeape won’t need any more direction. He’s too concerned with getting out of the maze already and he thinks he’s supposed to turn right here.

But Meganium runs up to him breathlessly and makes a sound – something like worry – and he abandons the maze to look back at what’s going on.

Primeape is flat on the ground, barely breathing, and Raichu is charging up for one final attack. For a moment, Ethan’s mind is racing, because he really wants to send Meganium in to do something, but if he does, he knows something bad will happen. Something really bad.

Left.

He has to go left. He has no idea why that comes to mind instead of a command that could save Primeape’s life, but it’s what he thinks of first and it’s more important in the long run.

“Meganium, the switch is down the left path,” he says quickly. He leaves it at that, and he’s glad she responds as quickly as she does, despite the sound of her tired, clumsy footsteps as she runs ahead.

The Raichu gets up on his hind legs and raises his tail in a show of strength, and Ethan knows this is it.

“Get up,” he tells Primeape. But it’s disappointing how little Primeape reacts, just moving a hand to touch the floor in a vain attempt to obey. Ethan grits his teeth. Raichu is lowering himself on all fours again, stepping back, launching forward –

“Get up!”

Something surges through him when he says that, and it’s weird. Because it feels like power, and it feels so warm and familiar and _right_ , and he’s certain that power is what pushes Primeape to his feet and makes him jump aside just as Raichu rushes for him. It’s what makes Primeape grab Raichu’s tail again, what makes him swing his opponent around and send him rolling through fizzling walls that crackle, fade, and disappear.

Meganium shouts from wherever she is. The maze is gone.

His legs are moving before he can think about it.

Ethan almost hears Surge chuckling about the final race they’re about to have. Maybe Surge does actually say that, but it’s hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in his head because this was when it happened. This was when something died and he hopes he can just be fast enough this time.

Primeape and Meganium are just barely catching up to him when something explodes into lightning behind them. Raichu is growling, _roaring_ , and it terrifies Ethan so badly he squeals. He’s sure he hears Surge laughing overhead about it, but he’s hard-pressed to care about it when he sees the wide archway marking Surge’s location.

He’s just barely started smiling when Raichu suddenly appears, running alongside them.

“Cross Chop!” he frantically orders, running faster than he ever thought he could, keeping his eyes on the archway. He doesn’t even know how Primeape manages to land the hit, just that he does, judging by the cry Raichu lets out.

Ethan’s lungs are burning by the time he scrambles into the hallway that will lead him to Surge, and he barely lets himself glance back to see where the other two are. Primeape is already behind him. Meganium is too, but it’s clear that she’s struggling to keep up. Raichu, however, isn’t, and that’s enough to convince him to slow down and swallow air until he feels like he’s actually breathing again.

But he hears sparking again and Raichu is there, under the archway, looking furious and sparking madly.

This is the final turn, he knows it. One more attack will finish it. “Dig!”

But once Primeape has slammed his way through the floor and into the dirt, he regrets it. Because Raichu unleashes a powerful Thunder the second his target is out of view. A Thunder that’s aimed directly at Ethan.

But more importantly, a Thunder that Meganium – tired and breathless and weakened as she is – runs straight into. Just to guard him. Just to protect him one last time.

He wishes she weren’t so selfless.

The attack only stops because Primeape comes up and slams into Raichu’s belly. And he does more, Ethan knows, because he thinks he hears bones snapping in the back of his mind. He’s not sure. He’s too busy staring at Meganium, staring at her motionless body, to pay much heed.

“M… Meganium…?” he whispers as he slowly makes his way to her, reaching a hand out to her. He thinks he hears Raichu scream. He thinks he hears footsteps behind him.

She crackles when he touches her neck. She sputters and fizzles like a broken hologram, like Silver has many times before, like Surge currently is behind him, and he wonders amidst his heavy heart if any of this is even real.

“Ah, shit,” Surge says. “Did he kill it?” It’s cold and heartless, and so is his laugh. “Whoops.”

He can’t move. He’s not sure he’s even breathing. He doesn’t see Primeape fuming just a few feet away, doesn’t see the bleeding Raichu flicker and disappear. He barely even sees Meganium disappearing before his eyes because he’s too busy watching Nidoking die and he’s too busy watching Dragonair die and Arbok die and Venomoth and Beedrill and –

And he’s too busy watching himself fall apart.


	23. Floor Fourteen

He watches the five of them die, watches five strangers perish at his hands – hands that are far too small and young and smooth to be his own. And when he hears someone shouting, screaming, crying – it sounds like a child. A boy. And he knows who it is, but he won’t admit it to himself.

So he buries his hands in his hair, curls his fingers, digs into his scalp and pulls until he thinks he’ll rip the strands out because these aren’t his thoughts, they aren’t his memories, and he thinks he knows what it all means.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he desperately whispers to himself.

He forces himself to open his teary eyes, to stare at the black ground, to focus on the fact that these aren’t the floors of the power plant anymore. He opens his ears to the silence – no humming walls, no growling Primeape, no cooing Me–

His breath stops.

His fists pull harder, the tears start falling again, and –

And something tells him _he’s_ not the one crying.

Someone sighs.

Ethan’s head jerks up, and he’s looking at Sabrina with wide eyes and quivering lips. She’s frowning a bit, drumming her fingers against her thigh like she’s getting impatient. “You really ought to pick yourself up off the floor,” she says quietly.

Ethan blinks a few times, mostly to get rid of the blurriness in his vision, partially in sheer confusion. “Where’s…” he says hoarsely. He clears his throat and looks down, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. He forces himself to relax and smoothes his hair out before wiping the tears from his face. He doesn’t look up when he tries again and asks, “Where’s Silver…?”

She looks at him sadly. “He’s not here.”

His heart pounds, harder than it already has been. He feels like Silver betrayed him. Silver, who always appears to chastise him after letting someone die. He wants Silver to be here, not Sabrina. Because Ethan can glare at him and yell at him and curse at him all he wants, he can blame him for everything bad that’s ever happened to him – but not Sabrina.

He feels a hand on his head. “He’s not supposed to be here right now,” Sabrina tells him, like she knows what he’s thinking.

His jaw starts trembling. “I –” he starts. But he can’t get around the way his voice shakes and he can’t think straight enough to figure out what he wants to say. He takes a shuddering breath, and when his teeth chatter, he shakily brings a fist to his mouth and bites down. “Why does… Why does it bother me so much?” he whispers around a mouthful of skin.

Sabrina kneels down in front of him and runs a hand through his hair, like she’s trying to soothe a young child. It almost breaks his heart, not because it’s kind but because it destroys whatever pride he thought he had left. “Why do you think?”

So he thinks. His breath shakes and his eyes start burning and he thinks back on those five – Nidoking, Dragonair, Arbok, Venomoth, and Beedrill, right? And he thinks back on others – Persian, Vileplume, Raticate –

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Uh-uh,” he stubbornly and quietly says to himself, because he really, _really_ doesn’t want to remember.

“Gold.” Sabrina brushes her thumb against his forehead. “You know the answer already, don’t you?”

The tears fall. It’s just his lips against the back of his hand now, and his teeth are clenched so tightly it’s giving him a headache. “I don’t want to,” he sobs.

“But you do,” she says, and her voice is so unbearably gentle that it just makes it easier for him to cry. “And they’re things that you need to learn to let go of.”

Finally he looks up at her. It’s hard for him to make out her features from behind a veil of tears, but all he can think about is what a great mother she would be, and he wonders if that’s what Red was hoping for all along. “I thought I did,” he chokes out.

He doesn’t know what force compels him to do it, but he does – he throws himself on the woman’s shoulder and he cries. He cries with all the self-restraint of an infant, soaking Sabrina’s shirt down to her skin and making miserable, pitiful sounds that he would never in a hundred lifetimes admit to making.

It lasts maybe five minutes? Ten? An hour? Ethan has no way of knowing. But when it’s over and he’s finished wiping his face, he doesn’t hesitate to thank her.

And she smiles at him warmly, and he wonders how Red survived a decade without that. “You don’t need to thank me,” she tells him.

He blinks. He always thought that was a strange thing to say. “Yes I do.” He looks away and sighs. “And… And I know I need to remember.” He bites his lip at the thought. “And I know I need to let go of all that. …Whatever it is. But… I’m…” He looks up at her. She’s still smiling. “I’m not ready to. I will. Just… not now.”

“That’s okay.” She chuckles. “You’re a quicker learner than Red.”

The corners of his lips turn up a little bit. “You think? Karen said I was dumber.”

She raises an eyebrow and smirks amusingly, and it’s incredible how grateful he feels. “And you’re really going to believe something Karen said?”

He smiles. “I guess not.”

Sabrina returns his smile and stands. Ethan follows suit when he realizes she was right; he _should_ pick himself up off the floor.

“So, um,” he says as he brushes off his pants, “what’s your special challenge?”

“Challenge?” she asks.

“Yeah. Like everyone else has so far?”

She laughs lightly and pinches his cheek like he’s a little boy, and for some reason it doesn’t bother him. “You’re wiser than you think you are.”

“Huh?”

“I have no challenge for you,” she admits. “Not anymore.”

He stares at her, mildly confused by the mirth in her eyes. “So… there’s no fight?”

“There’s no fight. Besides,” she sighs, “Snorlax would have had no problems with Alakazam. That’s who you were planning on using, right?”

He hadn’t really thought about it, given the circumstances. But going over his options, Snorlax probably would have been the best fit. If not him, then Slowbro. “I guess so.”

“So you would’ve won anyway. No surprise there.” She grins. “Like I said, you’re quicker than Red.”

He smiles again. “Thanks.”

She flickers. “You’re welcome.”


	24. Floor Fifteen | 15.1

The gentle breeze coming from behind him is what makes Ethan turn around. And when he does, he watches the emptiness of Sabrina’s room – a darkness he hasn’t noticed until now – vanish as it’s replaced by grass and trees and vivid flowers. He watches the greenery sweep the ground before him, watches it sprout beneath his feet and spread beyond his field of view. He doesn’t need to turn to know Sabrina is gone.

It seems like he’s in a park, or perhaps a small but spacious section in a community garden. And it’s calm and peaceful, practically glowing in the sunlight.

This should be Erika’s domain. He’s pretty certain of that. And while he remembers her being quiet and exceedingly patient, he can’t bring himself to want to see her just yet. Sabrina may have helped him calm down, but the thoughts are still there. They’re still nipping at him, still making his fingers fidget uncertainly.

Ethan takes a shaky breath, trying not to recall more than he needs to, and takes a seat in the shade of a tree. It’s a struggle to get his muscles to relax, and it takes a few minutes of nothing but breathing to keep his knees from locking up, his hands from clenching the grass, his lips from frowning.

And for a while, it’s easy to focus on nothing but what’s around him – the soft breeze, the warm sunlight, the leaves swaying gently overhead, the smell of Arcanine lilies –

That makes him bite his lip. He scowls and grabs at the grass beneath him and squeezes his eyes shut because they burn and he _really_ doesn’t want to cry about this again.

But he feels the tears seeping out onto his eyelashes and he can’t help but let out a frustrated laugh. So he pulls his knees to his chest, buries his face in his knees, and breathes deeply, trying not to think about it, not thinking about it, _not thinking about it_ –

“Gold?”

Ethan grits his teeth. At the very least, whatever anger or disappointment or whatever that is that’s suddenly stirring in his chest is enough to keep the tears from spilling. It’s practically enough to stop them.

He takes a deep breath before looking up at Silver. And despite how annoyed or upset or whatever he is, he’s confused by the urgent look in Silver’s eyes and the shimmering redness on his left cheek. 

Regardless, Ethan is quick to frown and look away. “I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures, Silver.”

Silver stays silent for a moment before approaching him. “I was not going to lecture you. I was going to ask if you are okay, though it is clear to me that you are not.”

Ethan considers his words for a few seconds, mulling over his thoughts with a bitterness toward Silver that he can’t quite place. But he spots a few of those wretched lilies in the distance, so he turns away and nestles his chin between his knees with rage or frustration or _something_. “It shouldn’t bother me this much,” he finally states. “I’ve been through this _way_ too many times before. It’s not supposed to bother me so much.”

“…Are you sure of that?”

Ethan glances up at him. Silver looks as composed as ever, but there’s something in his eyes that seems almost… worried. “Yes,” he insists.

Silver looks away, and Ethan is pretty sure from his expression that something bad is going to happen.

He sits up and gives Silver a demanding stare, like he has every right to feel like he’s above him. “What?”

Silver looks surprised when he turns to him, but he doesn’t say anything. He just blinks at him and flickers like some poor imitation of something that’s alive.

Ethan’s glare settles into a disappointed frown. “I really wish you’d stop hiding stuff from me.” Silver opens his mouth to respond, but Ethan impatiently cuts him off with, “But I know you can’t.”

At the very least, Silver seems remorseful. “My apologies, Gold.”

Ethan shakes his head. “It’s not like you can help it,” he quietly says.

“Is there anything I _can_ help you with?”

Ethan shrugs. “Probably not.”

Silver holds out his hand. And while part of Ethan wants to push it away and ask Silver to leave him alone, part of him is inexplicably grateful.

So he takes it, and he lets Silver pull him to his feet.

“Thanks,” Ethan mutters.

“You’re welcome.”

In the short silence that follows, Ethan looks at Silver curiously – examines his eyes, his hair, the small smile on his lips, even the cheek that’s no longer red. And something tells him he’s done absolutely nothing to deserve any kindness from Silver. “Um… I thought you weren’t supposed to be here.”

He nods. “That is correct.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Won’t Red get mad?”

Something in Silver shifts. Ethan can’t tell what, but it’s in the way the static crawls over his eyes and his face and it’s most certainly over something unwelcome. “He _is_ mad.” Ethan glances at Silver’s cheek, and he can feel the pieces trying to line themselves up but he won’t let them. Not yet. “He usually is.”

“Then… why are you here?”

“I have my duties to you as well. And…” Silver hesitates – nervously, Ethan figures, judging from the way he briefly looks away – before continuing, “And I am looking forward to the day you meet Red.”

Ethan furrows his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I like you a lot better than Red.”

It’s definitely not the logical explanation he expected, and it just makes him narrow his eyes in confusion. “Thanks?” he drawls.

Silver chuckles. “However, with all that said, I should probably return soon. Do you feel ready to continue?”

Ethan takes a deep breath. Because Erika is the one who’s next, continuing isn’t exactly discouraging. But he still slides his hands into his pockets and considers it before nodding slowly. “Yeah. I think so.”

Silver smiles. “Good luck, Gold.”

Ethan doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before Silver flickers and disappears.


	25. Floor Fifteen | 15.2

Even after Silver leaves, Ethan doesn’t move. He just stands and stays there, staring at the grass, sometimes glancing at the trees or at the sky. His heart pounds dully, but he can feel the beats echoing in his chest, and his anxiety bounces around inside him with the sound. Breathing does little to help and he’s looking at the lilies again when he realizes his hands are fidgeting.

No, maybe he’s not ready to continue.

He does eventually will himself to move, though, back toward the tree so he can sit again. His legs feel heavy and clumsy, and somehow his heart has found its way to his head and it’s louder now. Stronger. More ominous and…

And accompanied by a melody. A sweet one coming from further in the garden, and it sounds familiar . It reminds him of the smell of coffee on lazy Sunday mornings. It’s calming, soothing, and eventually he forgets the dull throbbing in his chest. His feet move easily on their own, toward whoever is humming that song again.

He remembers the voice just before he sees Erika, flickering and watering the plants as a Bellossom dances by her feet. He braces himself for the anxiety he’s certain he’ll feel just for seeing her, but it never comes. His heart stays calm and no sense of dread fills the cavity in his chest. There’s just a touch of longing there—longing for nothing and everything all at once—and it doesn’t make sense to him.

The Bellossom stops mid-twirl and gazes at him with something like shock and awe sparking in her eyes. He’s tempted to sink back into the trees, but the little thing coos and runs up to him so happily he stops.

She reminds him of Meganium.

Erika giggles once the Bellossom has latched onto his ankle with a surprisingly tight embrace. “It seems she’s taken a liking to you.”

Bellossom looks up at him and beams, and he can’t help but give her at least a little smile. “I guess so.”

Erika sets her watering can down on the ground with a sound like static. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while, you know.” She stands straight and gives him a sad smile, one that makes him wish she weren’t so understanding. “Is everything alright?”

It feels like his heart stops for a second, and it quickly slips back into the beat of anxiety. He looks down and frowns, unsure of what to say. And when he notices the Bellossom flinch and pull away from him, he shakes his head and tries to lift his expression a little bit, into an _apologetic_ frown instead.

The Bellossom seems satisfied with that, though, so she starts spinning and dancing again, releasing a mist from the flowers on her head. She makes it smell like honey and lavender.

“Well?” Erika patiently asks.

Well what…? What is he supposed to say to that? He doesn’t know why exactly his heartbeat is echoing like that, why he feels so anxious, why he’s been so upset. Everything has made him feel every way possible by now, he’s certain. Because it’s not just Meganium’s death and it’s not just everyone else’s deaths and it’s not just the deaths of those nine—no, nine _teen_ —others, it’s something else. And as his fingers clench and unclench and his nails scratch at his palm, he can’t figure out what’s at the center of the hole in his chest.

So he gives up. He sighs. “No.” He looks up at Erika sadly, almost pleadingly, like she might be able to help him. “And I don’t know why.”

She frowns. “You don’t?” She purses her lips and hums contemplatively, and it’s not at all as soothing as the song she was humming earlier. “But you must know. Just think, Gold. Surely you already know all the answers to your questions.”

He scoffs. It’s supposed to sound scornful and angry, but it sounds resigned and hopeless instead, even to his own ears. “I’m sure I do,” he mutters as sarcastically as he can—which isn’t much at all, he knows.

But it’s hard to agree with her. It’s hard to think that he might already know these things when he can’t recall them, even despite the things he has remembered before—the names, the faces, the memories that he _knows_ aren’t his. Because those are Red’s, they have to be because he _knows_ that, he knows.

He knows…

In the same way he recalls memories that aren’t his, thinks thoughts that aren’t his, feels emotions that aren’t his. In the way he has carried the deaths of those faceless, nineteen creatures, the way he has carried Meganium’s death—that wasn’t him. That was _never_ him. That was Red. He knows.

And there’s the scary thought that maybe his mind isn’t his, either. That maybe Red has, somehow, been manipulating him all this time—that Red has changed him in the same way he has probably been changing the world around him all this time and _that_ —

 _That’s_ something that swaps his anxiety for dread, and he clenches his fists and listens to the new song his heart is playing out for him, pounding loudly and threateningly in his head and he wonders if maybe that’s another of Red’s tricks.

“I thought…” he says.

Erika doesn’t respond. He figures she’s waiting for him to continue, so he steels himself, flexes his fingers, and takes a few shallow breaths. He has to gather his nerves just to look up at her but he manages. “I…” He hesitates again, though. She looks at him expectantly but no, he can’t ask that. So instead he says, “I thought you were supposed to help me calm down…”

She laughs lightly and approaches him. “I will,” she says with a smile. She stops in front of him and puts a hand on his arm. “Now why don’t you ask me what you _really_ wanted to ask?”

He bites his lip and tries to look away from her. But he can’t. Even in spite of the way her image jumps, there’s something just a little too reassuring about her. “I just… I thought Red was a good kid… Wasn’t he? So… why do I feel kind of…” Well, it sounds silly but he finds it in him to say it anyway. “Scared of him now?” He clenches his fists.

Erika blinks a few times, like she’s not sure what to say. And when she does open her mouth, he already knows what she’s going to tell him. So he cuts her off with a shrug and adds, “I guess I just… wanted to know what he was like when you met him?”

Her hand falls. “Oh…” She sighs and looks away, watching her Bellossom dancing somewhere off to her right. Ethan glances at the Bellossom as well, and as hard as he tries to find the scent of honey and lavender, he can’t smell it. “Well, the poor boy was a mess when I met him.”

Surprised, his eyes immediately jump back to Erika, though she’s still focused on her Bellossom. “He was?”

She nods. “He was just a child.” The corners of her lips turn down sadly, and she brings her hands in front of her chest to thread her fingers together. Nervously. “In a way, I suppose he still is that ten-year-old boy. But that’s it. He was just a sweet child who saw too much too early.”

His heart calms a little. “That’s it? Nothing, uh… scary about him…?” he quietly asks.

She laughs lightly and smiles at him, lowering her hands. “Nothing at all.”

Almost instantly, he feels the muscles in his body relax, realizing his shoulders were hunched the entire time. But… Still, what about feeling like Red has been in his mind? And the things Silver and the others have mentioned about him? His fingers twitch. “Is he still like that now?”

“Hardened, I suppose.” Her smile grows brighter and she finally drops her hands to her sides. “But he’s someone you can trust, Gold. You know him better than you think you do.”

The thought of putting his trust in a boy he’s never met feels strange to him, but somehow it puts him at ease. Besides, of the people he’s met so far, Erika is easily one of the most trustworthy. He remembers that much.

Bellossom chirps and the air fills with that lovely scent again. He turns to see the little creature dancing by the flowerbed, skipping and twirling among roses, daisies, tulips and, of course, those lilies.

And it’s bittersweet. Because he knows now that he’s ready to let go of her and the others and even the ones he never met. Red may not be, but he is, and that’s enough to bring him some peace.

He watches Bellossom spin and dance around the trees, darting in and out of the surrounding forest with the others suddenly in tow. Xatu dances with her as well as he can in the air while Magneton floats nervously after them. Trailing behind them is Primeape, who looks uncertainly at Rhydon standing patiently beside him before picking at the grass. Primeape stops when Slowbro grunts at him from her seat in the shade of a nearby tree, and Ethan wonders if she was honestly expecting a chance to fight somewhere so out of her element.

He spots their newest addition a little further out, clapping heavily as Bellossom and Xatu dance around him. It puts a smile on Ethan’s face to see that Snorlax is enjoying himself, especially when Bellossom tries to hug his massive foot and he delightfully returns the embrace.

And his smile grows because _that_ fills him with something so wonderful he can’t help but breath it all in. The sweet air fills his chest, swirls in his lungs, and when he breathes out, he can feel the dread and anxiety go along with it. All that’s left there is bliss.

He turns to Erika to see her smiling at the scene. And although he doubts that words could truly convey his gratitude, he speaks anyway. “Thank you.”

She looks at him with wide, surprised eyes, but once she understands his words, she beams. “You’re welcome.”


	26. Floor Sixteen

The smell of smoke hits him before he can look away from Erika, and when he does, everything is burning—the grass, the flowers, the trees. Smoke rises and blackens the sky. But there’s no heat. And the air is easy to breathe, even in spite of the smell. He remembers Primeape and lightning and the scent of burning fur, and Ethan looks over at him just to be sure he’s all right.

Primeape is curiously hunched over a burning lily, trying to decide whether or not to touch it judging by the way he reaches for and pulls away from the flower. Ethan opens his mouth to tell him to leave it alone, but Primeape shoves his hand in the flames and laughs a little when it doesn’t burn him.

It doesn’t burn.

Ethan looks down and watches the flames burn the grass beneath his feet but not his shoes. He watches the ground turn to ash and harden into rock, and he thinks about asking Erika something about this but he already knows she’s gone.

When he looks up again, the sky is gray, the earth is black for as far as he can see, and the rocks jut out of the hill just a few yards to his left, climbing and climbing and forming what he’s sure is a volcano.

Something clops in the distance, quickly and rhythmically against the stony ground. And when he looks, he’s not surprised to see Blaine approaching him, riding his Rapidash and looking for all the world like a child with a myriad of new toys.

“You’re here!” Blaine yells ecstatically. He almost looks ready to jump off his Rapidash and run the rest of the way toward him, but the man stays put. He flickers and giggles, like he doesn’t know what toy to play with first. “You’re finally here!”

And it’s extremely unnerving. Ethan takes a step back as the Rapidash comes to a stop a few feet away. “Yes?”

“Yes!” Blaine repeats. He jumps off the Rapidash and brushes himself off, staring at Ethan with an unnaturally wide smile. “Yes, yes, you’re here!”

Blaine bounces up to him, stopping just _inches_ away, and looks at him— _examines_ him, really, from behind his wiry glasses, tinted so Ethan can’t see the craziness that’s probably flashing in his eyes.

Right. Blaine’s the eccentric one.

The man bounces on his toes. “Yes, yes, you’ll be perfect! He chose well, he certainly did.”

Ethan leans away, desperate to breathe air that isn’t this man’s suffocating breath, but Blaine just leans forward in response. Stepping back makes Blaine step forward. And Ethan quickly figures out that all he can do is grimace and turn away. “What are you talking about? And could you please give me some space?”

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about!” Blaine enthusiastically responds. He pulls back a little bit, but he’s still close enough that Ethan can smell smoke and lightning on his breath. “He chose well and you’ll be perfect! Yes, you’re almost there, you know. Almost at the top and it will be wonderful to see how you’ll fare. But I already know you’ll do just fine.”

Ethan tries again to step back and away, but Blaine follows again. Closer this time. The man is practically _breathing_ on him and all he can do to keep from hitting him is grit his teeth and clench his fists and try not to smell his breath. “Blaine, get away from me.”

Blaine brings a shimmering hand to his chin and taps his fingers against his lips, still staring at him like he’s under a microscope. “Yes, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”

Something coils in his stomach. Anger is part of it, yes, but it’s something more. Something offended and disrespected, and there’s the thought that Blaine probably belongs somewhere between the floor and the soles of his shoes at the moment, but he’s knows that’s not his thought.

And when he’s about to open his mouth and yell, he feels the earth rumble beneath his feet, and Blaine immediately turns toward the volcano. Ethan can’t help a worried glance at the mountain himself, already expecting to see lava spewing from the crater. “Is it—”

“What would you think a volcano stands for, Gold?”

He furrows his brow at the sudden question. But before he can answer, he sees Blaine move toward him from the corner of his eye. He instinctively steps back but the man matches his movements, and his glasses are still staring him down and his nose is practically _touching his_ and he’s just about ready to throw a punch. “What are you talking about?” Ethan hisses.

“It’s _power_.”

He’s fairly certain he catches the man’s eyes going wide with excitement and insanity behind his flickering glasses.

“ _Power_ ,” Blaine repeats. “These things erupt and destroy and _nothing_ can stop them, nothing! Because they’re just too powerful and you know what?”

The man stays quiet for a moment, grinning enthusiastically as he awaits a response. Ethan can feel his nails cutting into his palms and his teeth are probably cracking from how hard they’re grinding against each other and he _really_ wants to slap Blaine or punch him but he doesn’t and, wait, no, that’s not right. “What,” he growls.

“You have that,” Blaine whispers, like he’s just unveiled a beautiful secret. He laughs and says more loudly, “ _You_ have that, Gold.”

Blaine’s hand is at his brow before he can say anything else, and Ethan steps back and slaps it away before the man can even react. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Wait, those aren’t his words.

“I want to see it!”

Ethan scrunches his nose and furrows his brow and he glares at Blaine with absolute disgust. He’s a dog that doesn’t know his place. Blaine should be sitting at his feet quietly awaiting an order like… like someone else, but that’s not his thought either.

“Get away from me, Blaine.”

“Show me, please!” Blaine leans in a bit more, and Ethan can almost feel the moistness in the man’s breath when he speaks, and whatever was coiling in his stomach is burning now, feeling warm and familiar and _right_ once more and it rises and it’s right on his tongue, pressing against his teeth and ready to burst. “Just once, please, I—”

“Get away from me!” he roars.

Blaine flies. Like Ethan’s voice hit him with the force of a truck. He sails through the air and lands like a crackling rag doll at the hooves of his Rapidash, who stands there unflinching, looking straight at Ethan like she’s awaiting an order.

And there’s a foreign, familiar, bitter gratefulness that _someone_ here knows their place.

He hears Blaine laughing from the floor, face buried in the rock and dirt, and he finally realizes he _sent the man flying_ and has no idea how. His heart pounds for a moment but he quickly remembers.

This is normal.

Ethan thinks to apologize, but judging by Blaine’s laughter, the man doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“Yes, yes,” Blaine chuckles as he stands and brushes himself off. “That was perfect!”

Ethan gives him a puzzled look, because no matter how normal that may be, he still launched a person into the air without so much as laying a finger on him. “Okay…” he says quietly. It’s either a response to Blaine or the launch or both, but he really doesn’t know. Probably both.

“Can I see more?” Blaine asks. He’s about to run up to him again, but Ethan fixes him with a glare that stops him in his tracks. At least the old man is learning. So instead, Blaine walks up to his Rapidash and pats her neck, all the while watching Ethan and bouncing on his toes with excitement and eagerness. “Please, Gold? There’s so much you can do and I want to see all of it!”

Ethan scrunches his nose up and glares at the old man and his eerily wide grin. He decides that, no, there is no “probably” about it. No matter whose thought it was, Blaine _does_ belong on the soles of his shoes. “What, you want me to throw you over the volcano now?”

“No, no!” he laughs. He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face. It’s easy to see he’s ecstatic over the fact that his request is even being entertained. “Everything else you can do!”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Blaine throws his hands up with another laugh, one that sounds distorted and mechanical. “Why, everything! You can do everything, Gold!” He chuckles, but quickly cuts himself off and cups his chin in one hand. “Well, any of those everythings that Red will allow you to do right now.”

Ethan huffs impatiently and glances at the man’s Rapidash. She doesn’t look like she’s moved a muscle since the last time he looked at her. “Blaine, what are you talking about?”

Blaine looks at his Rapidash, then back at Ethan. And he smiles widely and clasps his hands together, like he just came up with a brilliant plan. “Of course! That’s how you’ll show me!”

Ethan looks at him again. “What?”

“Yes!”

Blaine doesn’t offer any explanation, just smacks the Rapidash’s flank with a crazed expression. The Rapidash rears up and whinnies before dropping on all four hooves and charging forward, horn lowered and ready to pierce Ethan’s throat.

Ethan scowls and glares at Blaine. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

They’re still not his words.

Blaine doesn’t make an effort to respond. It doesn’t even seem like he heard him, so Ethan sighs and decides Rhydon should be able to stop the Rapidash in her tracks.

Rhydon materializes before him, in a way that’s familiar and unfamiliar, binding flickering lights to air with the sound of static to make the rocky creature that stands as his shield.

And he realizes he’s never actually seen them appear like that before. Like images and imitations and mockeries of living things.

_Real not real._

…Is that supposed to mean they’re not-living things that die?

_Not-real things that die._

Seven and nineteen and however many came before that, nameless faces that flash across his mind, each as familiar and unfamiliar as the one preceding it—

Something roars.

And when he comes to, Rhydon has the Rapidash’s horn locked tightly in his fists, and he’s shoving, lifting, throwing—

“Don’t kill it,” Ethan calmly says.

 _Real not real_ and Red’s thoughts are getting annoying. Ethan squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and vaguely wonders when he started accepting that as normal.

Rhydon howls all the same and throws his opponent overhead like a baseball. And maybe it’s Rhydon listening to him or maybe it’s his own thoughts that do it, but the earth moves. It moves and swells and rises like water, catching the Rapidash in a soft, living mound of dirt and _still not real_.

The Rapidash stands easily and shakes off the attack, her fiery mane flickering as she moves.

Blaine just laughs ecstatically and claps, bouncing on his feet. “See? See?!” He laughs again. “Oh, and you’re merciful too, yes, he chose quite well.”

Ethan looks at the Rapidash again, still standing placidly and obediently. And with the way she looks back at him, he knows she would obey any command he gives her, even if it means turning on Blaine.

It reminds him of Misty’s Lapras, but it reminds him of Silver as well.

Rhydon grumbles, drawing his attention. And he looks just as obedient and as ready to serve him as Rapidash, as anyone or anything should be.

Because it’s not like they’re real anyway, right?

…No. Not right. _Not real_.

Ethan grits his teeth. “Shut up…”

Rhydon thumps his tail against the ground. The Rapidash digs a hoof into the dirt.

They’re waiting.

And when he looks over at Blaine, he’s still grinning with his hands clasped together but… he’s waiting too.

Ethan’s eyes flit among the three of them and he shifts uneasily under their gazes. “Um…” What are they waiting for?

“Just one final show?” Blaine pleads, still smiling, still bouncing.

The Rapidash nickers in agreement. Rhydon grunts. And something tells him this is it. That after this moment is the final stretch toward something he thinks he knows but doesn’t want to.

And he’s sure that’s Red’s voice whispering something in the back of his mind, something that’s not worth listening to right now.

Ethan nods a little and looks at Rhydon. One Earthquake. That should be enough to satisfy Blaine and end this.

And maybe it’s Rhydon slamming his foot into the earth or maybe it’s his thoughts that do it or maybe it’s that thing in his stomach that feels familiar and right again—

No, it _is_ that thing in his stomach, his own power that lets him rip the ground apart—would let him rip _worlds_ apart if he wanted. If he allowed himself, to destroy when he should be protecting.

But everything melts into blackness and those words are tickling his mind, stirring it, draining it, breaking it and he’s falling, back, stopping, seeing, fissures and fires and lava and—

_Not real not real not real_


	27. Floor Seventeen | 17.1

Every muscle in his body goes rigid. His stomach clenches, his back arches, his throat burns with the sudden rush of air that locks itself in his lungs and he nearly chokes on it before he realizes _he needs to breathe_.

He lets the air out in a shuddering breath, slowly unwinds his muscles, instructs himself to inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

Darkness crawls at the edge of his vision, and the rest is obscured by dizzying lights. So he closes his eyes. But then the floor rocks beneath him and the world wavers around him and he brings a hand to his face as soon as the nausea starts bubbling in his stomach.

He swallows it down, waits and breathes and waits for everything to go still around him. And when it finally does, he opens his eyes. Slowly. Blinking more now. Blinking less. Watching and waiting for the light and the darkness to fade. Until he can see that he’s staring through a pristine glass ceiling hundreds of feet above him, and that beyond that is… everything.

It’s a curious thing. Because the ceiling itself and everything beyond it are enough to empty Ethan’s mind of all thoughts for a moment—until he squints at it and realizes no one has ever gone up there and cleaned it by hand. It’s a stupid thought but it comes to mind, and it’s strong enough to make him forget about the remnants of nausea still lingering in his stomach.

Something crackles in the room—which he remembers being huge and enclosed by silver walls, walls with lines of blue light that climb and turn and fall within them. Those lines are probably important, but he’s not entirely sure why they would be.

The sound pops, and the ceiling flickers with it. The floor flickers with it too, he can feel it, wavering and shimmering beneath him along the entire length of his body. It all sounds like static, and he wonders if his memories would sound like that. Like an old cassette tape with nothing recorded on it.

But no, they wouldn’t. He knows he’ll get those back soon enough.

The world clicks loudly in his ears as everything forces itself back into place. The glass panes snap together, the floor solidifies, and he doesn’t need to see him to know that Silver has stopped flickering so madly as well.

“Gold? Are you alright?”

Is he? He breathes, he blinks, he looks around. Nothing is breaking. And maybe nothing’s real but it’s certainly at least a little strange that Red hasn’t said anything to him yet.

Silver steps into his line of sight, looking down at him with concern.

Ethan blinks up at him. “Why do you always find me on the ground…?” Has that always been the case?

Silver smiles at him and holds out a flickering hand. “I have and I have not. That depends on who you mean.”

He glances at his outstretched hand and considers whether or not he really feels ready to stand. “On who I mean by ‘me?’”

“Have you been remembering?”

Of course he has. But the memories that come to him are small and fragmented, just vague feelings and ideas and things that seem familiar. And as he sits up and feels the dizziness and nausea wash over him again, what comes to him is just that—that feeling in his stomach that didn’t mean much to him when he first ordered Primeape to stand. The feeling that apparently, if Blaine’s words are worth trusting, means a lot more than just demanding and receiving.

And there’s also that feeling that there are things he should be guarding, and things he could be destroying.

The world stops moving, but the nausea settles like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

That seems like a lot of responsibility.

“I…” He sighs. “I think I know why I’m here…”

Silver stays quiet for a moment. Too long a moment, really, but Ethan figures he’s deciding what would be safe to say and what wouldn’t be. He hears Silver shift beside him, but he doesn’t bother to look at him. “Is there anything specific that you remember?”

No, there isn’t. He knows that already and Silver should too. So he stares at the walls ahead with their moving lines of light because there’s no sense in trying to explain it. What would a feeling with no name mean to Silver anyway. And if it would mean anything to him, it’s not like he’d be able to say anything about it. He remembers telling him that much.

He also remembers that those lines of light are lifelines.

Most of the lines are darting up and across the walls, some zigzagging near the floor, others climbing tens of feet high. But there’s one line near the ceiling and well above the others, maybe a few feet away from the glass and everything that lies beyond it. It glows strongly, brighter than the rest. But it’s also considerably shorter, chasing after its fading tail in a never-ending square.

And he has a sinking feeling that’s supposed to be his.

He calls to it and it comes, obeying like everything should. It feels natural. Innate. He almost forgets to remember that this isn’t the first time he’s called one of those over. And as the line shoots down the wall and across the floor to loop at his feet, he remembers that he’s dragged these out and cut them short before. With purpose, of course, but he recalls the times when he still felt guilty about doing so.

He knows the line is supposed to do more than just spin there. But no matter what he thinks or how many times he drags his fingers across it, it doesn’t do anything. It just glows and spins, taunting him, daring him to do something—

_Real or not?_

Ethan grits his teeth and scowls. Red just might be laughing at him.

He scoffs and sends the light back up the wall, where it keeps spinning and doing nothing aside from sitting there. Like he is. “That’s a lifeline,” he says. He gestures at it angrily, sweeps his arm out in front him. “It’s a life, they all are. They’re… people or dogs or plants, but they won’t—” He grits his teeth and sulks. Red is _still_ laughing at him, isn’t he. “They won’t do what they’re supposed to,” he mutters. “Not for me, anyway.”

“I suppose that means you are just about ready.”

The rock in his stomach goes cold and he takes a careful breath. “Guess so.”

He glances up at Silver. He’s still holding out his hand, still looking as obedient as Rhydon or that Rapidash, as obedient as he has been for years and years and so many years that he’s lost count. It’s almost a little tiring, but he thanks Silver all the same and takes his hand.

Ethan weakly rises to his feet, legs trembling beneath him, realizing a little too late that it was a mistake to get up so quickly. Blood drains from his head, the blackness creeps into his vision again, everything moves behind him or _he_ moves— _falls_ forward and hands are at his shoulders—

And everything stops. For just a short, quick, split moment everything stops. Because this has happened before and it happens again and again and again, over and over again, all these times when he couldn’t stand and couldn’t see. When he would fall and be caught, die and be reborn—

And he jumps back, heart suddenly pounding. Palms sweating. Silver looking at him with enough worry and pity that it scares him.

Silver drops his hands to his sides. “Gold? Are you okay?”

He blinks and calms his breaths. The lights seem brighter now, and they’re all his eyes can focus on. Especially that one by the ceiling, spinning faster now. “Silver…” He chuckles wryly, still watching that one light. “I don’t think I’ve been okay since I first met you.”

He still sees the sorrow that flashes across Silver’s face. It’s quick and sudden, but noticeable enough that he catches it in the corner of his eye. He tries to give Silver a reassuring smile. “But I… I will be.” He hopes he will be.

Silver closes his eyes and nods. “Of course.” But it looks a lot more like he’s saying that to himself.

Ethan takes a deep breath, eyes drifting back to his light. He has to force himself to look at Silver before speaking. Because something doesn’t feel right here. “I don’t have much more to go, right?”

Silver looks him straight in the eye—eyes like dusty chrome, grimy sinks, clouded chain-link fences. “Not much at all. Are you ready to continue?”

The rock gets colder. Heavier.

He nods hesitantly. “I think so.”

Something crackles in the air above them, but he doesn’t bother to look. Silver doesn’t bat an eye at the sound, either. “You only have one final test that you must pass before you may meet Red.” His eyes are still quiet, still dull, still jaded. Still worried and apologetic and—

Oh.

Something swoops down from above. Something large and still crackling like static, and it settles itself beside Silver.

It takes Ethan a while to recognize it as a Pidgeot. It takes him a while longer to remember what happened to at least three of those nameless faces.

“Shall we get started, then?”

But it doesn’t take long for that rock to burst and spit hot shards into his body, cutting into him with something dark and vengeful that twists in reopened wounds, slitting scars he forgot he even had—with something he can only describe as absolute _fury_.


	28. Floor Seventeen | 17.2

Silver’s expression changes. Ethan isn’t aware of it as he glares at him, but something in Silver’s face shifts in response to his anger—his grit teeth, flared nostrils, clenched fists, and especially the way his nose twitches as his expression tightens.

Ethan is too caught up in that foreign-familiar rage, the one that burns in those shards and wounds and scars, to notice the surprise and sorrow on Silver’s face.

He’s too caught up in watching them die again, watching Crobat and Fearow and Tauros and Poliwrath and Jynx all fall at Silver’s hands, watching them with Red’s thoughts roaring over his own—

“You fucking traitor,” Ethan growls.

Silver just stares at him, unmoving, gray eyes searching for… for _something_ in him but they’re too prodding and he snaps.

“ _What_!” he screams, stomping a foot and taking a step closer.

Silver doesn’t flinch like he expects. Neither does the Pidgeot standing quietly at his side. Silver simply looks down at the strange, metallic tile beneath their feet and takes a moment to think before saying, “I see you did not remember this, specifically.”

“No shit,” Ethan spits. “The fuck do you think you’re doing, coming to me like this again?”

Silver doesn’t dare to meet his gaze. “I am simply doing—”

“No, shut up!” he interrupts. “I don’t want to hear it. I _don’t_!” His voice trembles with his words and tears are threatening to spill but he can’t even begin to guess why. They might not even be his. The tears might not be his, the wounds might not be his, the scars not his—just the shards of rock and the fire that burns like fury, but even that anger might not be his.

His fists are still tightly clenched and his teeth are still crushed against each other, but his shaky breath betrays his rigidness, rushing in and out of his nose in time with his pounding heart.

That’s what he chooses to focus on, though, the breathing that trembles but somehow keeps him from falling apart. He focuses on that until his nails stop digging into his palms, until his head stops hurting.

Until Silver speaks up. “I apologize—”

_He’s not real either._

Something closes the distance between them. Something raises his right arm, something pulls his open hand back, and something drives it forward—

Ethan doesn’t even feel the skin of Silver’s cheek against his palm. He just hears the resounding _smack!_ when his hand connects with Silver’s face. He opens his mouth to yell that he never gave Silver permission to speak, but he cuts himself off when he catches it—Silver looking shocked, betrayed, and absolutely brokenhearted as he reaches for his reddening cheek with a shaking hand.

Those hot shards turn to ice.

Ethan freezes and stares, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as he processes what just happened. When the pieces come together, goosebumps shoot up his arm and he slowly pulls his hand back. His palm is still tingling, in a way that’s frighteningly familiar to him. And once the shock is gone from Silver’s eyes, Silver looks up at him in a way that’s frighteningly familiar as well—with sorrowful acceptance that’s _normal_ on his face, like he’s used to be being spat on and stepped on and _slapped_ of all things.

“I…” Ethan steps back, too ashamed to look Silver in the eye but too shocked to look away. “Silver, I… I’m so sorry, I don’t know what—”

“You need not apologize to me, Gold.” He says it evenly, but his eyes are still sad. The way he drops his hand to his side is sad, and even the way his red cheek flickers is sad.

“What?” Ethan whispers.

Silver turns to the Pidgeot at his side, the one Ethan had forgotten about because she’s been so still, and for whatever reason, she didn’t even react to how he just slapped Silver. Like she’s okay with anything he chooses to do.

Silver gently runs a hand over the Pidgeot’s wing. She leans into his touch and coos. “Now, I do believe we have something we need to do.” He pauses and quietly adds, “I need to bring you to Red.”

It clicks immediately: Erika was wrong. She was wrong or she lied, he knows that now. He doesn’t remember exactly, but he knows. “Silver… Is that how he treats you?”

Silver’s hand stops moving. Something flickers across his face, but he turns and walks away too quickly for Ethan to figure out what. “We are best off if we finish this soon.”

“But—”

“Call one,” he orders, with an aggressiveness in his voice that Ethan can’t remember ever hearing before. It’s sad and angry and desperate and he’s not sure what to make of it.

He’s sure Red would be seething at the mere thought of _Silver_ telling him what to do. But Red’s gone now. So Ethan just stands there quietly, watching Silver sadly. Watching him stop and curl his fingers into loose fists. Watching him call his Pidgeot and watching the bird take to the air from the corner of his eye.

Somehow that brings his attention back to the light on the wall. It’s still spinning, but it’s much, much slower now, blinking frantically like something’s wrong or broken.

Maybe that’s the case. Maybe that’s the sudden emptiness in his breath.

“Fine,” Ethan mutters.

He doesn’t give much thought to who shows up. It’s a careless move—even potentially reckless, and his eye goes back to the light. He barely even notices Magneton materialize before him, appearing from the lights that rise from the floor. And even then, Ethan is too focused on his heart, and he’s certain it’s pulsing in time with the light on the wall.

The Pidgeot screeches in the air, startling Ethan and bringing his attention back to her and the battle that just doesn’t feel right to him.

Magneton looks back at him nervously, whirring and clicking, magnets spinning in anticipation—awaiting an order Ethan knows he isn’t ready to give. He looks at Silver instead, and he wants to say something. Anything.

But Silver’s expression tightens—sadder, angrier, more desperate. Ethan thinks there might even be a touch of remorse there, and that’s too real and too complicated for Red to be right.

Silver looks away and tightens his fists, and Ethan wonders just who it is that makes up the rules here.

Silver doesn’t look up when he quietly orders, “Whirlwind.”

The Pidgeot caws and flaps her wings madly, tearing at the air with a furious gust of wind. It slams into Magneton hard enough to make the surface of its body shimmer and flicker until it vanishes in a flash of light, slams into Ethan’s chest hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps—hard enough to remind him just how irritating the bird can be.

Ethan grits his teeth and brushes his hair out of his face once the wind dies down. “Right,” he mutters. Right. He remembers the game now. He remembers the tricks vividly enough that the shards heat up again, and Red is back whispering something at him that he can’t really care for.

He eyes Silver, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before Silver looks away. And whatever that was supposed to be has Red hissing, so Ethan glares at the Pidgeot instead. The gleam in her eyes isn’t much better, though.

And maybe it’s him or maybe it’s Red, but one of them has the fire to yell, “Rhydon!”

The lights climb from the floor. They twist and wrap themselves around air, taking hold of each other until they’re six feet tall and the glow gives way to the one he called. Ethan wonders for a moment what else it is that the lights and this room can make.

Silver looks up from the floor, but he doesn’t meet Ethan’s eyes. He watches Rhydon, studies the creature for a moment, and Ethan’s sure Silver is stuck with only two options: fight and lose, or flee. And something about that, the fact that he himself has given Silver such grim choices— _that_ makes him feel powerful, and it fills him with a glee so familiar and foreign that it frightens him.

It’s not his.

And when Silver locks eyes with him with something like concern on his face, Ethan thinks for a moment that Silver understands that.

He can hear Red scoffing.

Silver sighs and looks up at his Pidgeot. “Again.”

Ethan braces himself for the gale, stepping aside to stand behind Rhydon, certain that the Whirlwind will ultimately fail. But he sees Rhydon’s feet sliding back against the tile. Three hundred pounds of rock being moved by air, and he can feel Red rolling his eyes at him, like he should have expected as much from such a cheap tactic. Cheap, _lousy tactic. Lousy Silver, lousy fuck._

The darkness crawls into his vision again and he squeezes his eyes shut, like that would be enough to quiet fire and foreign-familiar thoughts. “Just ground yourself,” he mutters through grit teeth. At himself, at Rhydon—it doesn’t really matter. But he feels the floor shake when Rhydon slams his tail into the tiles, doing just as he asked.

The wind is still whipping past him when he opens his eyes, squinting past the blackness that’s still there. He sways a bit and stumbles, but he catches the ripples in the flickering tiles, and it’s familiar to him. Somehow he forgets the wind and the nausea beginning to gather in his stomach. It’s just the floor that he can see, the pulsing light on the wall that he can feel, and he taps a foot on the ground and watches the lights bounce up, just a little.

And he smiles.

He takes a deep breath, stumbling with the sudden, dizzying intake of air, and looks up at Rhydon. “Earthquake.”

Rhydon manages to slam a foot into the floor without getting blown away, but it’s not rock that breaks free from the ground. It’s steel. A jagged wall of steel that shields them both from the wind, and Ethan, still dizzy from relief and air and remembrance, gives Rhydon an apologetic look because he couldn’t do that himself.

Red nips at him with words and feelings he can’t quite make sense of, so he focuses on blinking away the rest of the blackness and hopes Silver will take the bait this time.

The haze clears out quickly enough for Ethan to make sense of Silver’s next order: Quick Attack.

The thought of an Iron Tail is enough, and Ethan is thankful for that, because he’s still catching his breath and regaining his balance when the Pidgeot swoops into view, glowing from the light trailing her.

Rhydon roars and spins to slam his tail into the approaching bird, but she swerves out of the way at the last second, shoots past him, and pulls up from the ground to hover just a couple feet away. When she turns to face them, that gleam is in her eyes again, and it replaces Ethan’s nausea with something like dread.

“Mirror Move!” Silver orders.

The Pidgeot screeches. The lights shoot out from the floor and the walls, surrounding her body and tightening around her, glossing over every last feather until she shines.

Red definitely rolls his eyes this time, Ethan’s sure of it, and it’s irritated and impatient. What a cheap, lousy, not-real fuck, and he’s not sure who it is that’s thinking that anymore.

But Pidgeot cries out again and brings his attention back, just in time to watch the lights stretch out her tail feathers several feet behind her and wrap them together like an iron rope. When she flips, it hits Rhydon like a steel whip, breaking off the rock on the side of his head, cracking the stone of his body, and leaving him roaring in pain.

Whoever’s thoughts they were, they immediately quiet.

Jynx comes to mind. Ice comes to mind, bouncing off glossy feathers, and when the roars finally reach Ethan’s ears, the panic sets in.

He scrambles back on his feet, breath growing erratic, hoping there’s a home he can run to, a playground he can hide in, tears welling up in his eyes but he clenches his fists and swallows down the sobs that aren’t his—

It’s not like it’s real anyway.

He looks down at the floor and catches the tiles shimmering in the wake of his frantic steps. He grits his teeth. “It’s not real,” he says, and he’s pretty sure he’s not saying that to himself.

He sees the Pidgeot preparing for another Iron Tail, and the panic seizes his heart, but it’s not real. It’s not real, it’s not his, not his panic, not his tears, not his fears, not his home, not his and she flips.

“ _Stop_!” he screams.

It’s that thing in his stomach again, surging, escaping through his feet and into the floor, catching his Rhydon and Silver’s Pidgeot in its light. It takes Ethan a long while to register the Pidgeot paused and flickering in the air; the Slowbro now in Rhydon’s place, right in the path of that suspended iron whip; the smooth, repaired floor; and lastly the astonished look on Silver’s face.

But even then, Ethan is shivering, hand clamped over his mouth and teeth worrying his lower lip because it’s still there, the stuttering panic beating in time with the frantic light on the wall, flicking on and off, jutting and stabbing until he’s had enough and he grits his teeth and clenches his fists against his lip.

“Red, stop it,” Ethan hisses, but his voice shakes despite how hard he tries to keep it even.

It stabs a few more times and then stops abruptly, completely draining out of Ethan’s body and leaving him feeling empty once more.

He hears Red laugh in the back of his mind.

“Ethan?”

He turns to Silver. He’s not sure what does it—the concern in Silver’s eyes or his tone or just the fact that he has the nerve to say anything at all. And while he knows that last thought is more Red than himself, it’s probably the one that pushes him over the edge and sets those shards blazing again.

Ethan grits his teeth, tightens his fists, and spits out a scoff, stomping a foot on the ground to release the Pidgeot from the hold he accidentally placed on her because, right, he could do that sort of thing and he forgot he even missed it.

Red’s rolling his eyes again, but there’s something sickeningly proud and glad about it, and it doesn’t sit well in Ethan’s stomach.

The copied Iron Tail finally drops its weight on its target, but Slowbro catches it with Psychic moments before it can land, just inches from her face.

Slowbro turns to him with a finally satisfied grin, happily awaiting the order to finish off the Pidgeot in her hold.

And it’s that’s look on her face that makes the sickening feeling in his stomach churn unpleasantly. He’s already thinking about an Ice Punch when he finally identifies that feeling as revenge. And he has the pitying thought that Red, for however long he’s been around, never managed to grow up.

He watches the ice form around Slowbro’s hand. Watches her slam her fist into the Pidgeot’s stomach so hard the bird ends up sprawled on the ground yards away, ice creeping across her body and consuming half of her wings. Slowbro lifts her fist again for another strike, but Ethan sighs and taps a foot against the ground. The lights rise from the floor again and consume Pidgeot and a scowling Slowbro.

Silver watches the two disappear with wide eyes, turning to Ethan. “G-Gold, I have others,” he splutters. 

Ethan shakes his head. “That bird is the biggest, most annoying threat you have.” He smiles wryly. “Trust me, I remember that well enough. Or, Red does, I guess,” he adds with a shrug. “But it’s not like there’s a point in fighting if I already know how it’s going to turn out.” No point since he _can_ do this himself, anyway.

Silver stares at him for a few moments. Collecting his thoughts, Ethan can tell. Eventually, Silver straightens and says, “I… would not think he would be okay with this, Gold. After all, you are _supposed_ to—”

Ethan cuts him off with a light laugh and approaches him. “I think he’s just going to have to deal with it,” he tells Silver, feeling much too confident for what he’s expecting to happen next. Especially considering the indignant scoff Red is spitting at him.

He strolls past Silver, feeling lightheaded: a little giddy, a little nervous, just a touch terrified and excited and he wonders at what moment between waking up gasping for air and now—when in between those two moments had he accepted this?

A thought is all that’s necessary. One thought to call the lights up to form a passageway to a room he’s entered before and will enter again countless times. It’s almost funny that he could have ever forgotten it—all of this after experiencing it so many times.

The doorway sprouts from the tiles, all smooth, curved metal and glowing lines of light, as simple and elegant as he remembers it. It’s nostalgic, soothing, frightening, perplexing, enraging and too many other things for him to identify or even feel. So he smiles a bit.

“You know,” he says once Silver has reached his side, “I’m not really sure I feel like myself right now.” He chuckles dryly. “It’s… kind of like I’m a million different people feeling a million different things, all wrapped up in one body. Pretty weird, right?” And then he laughs, because it’s really not as nonsensical as it seems.


	29. Floor Eighteen | 18.1

“Are you sure you are ready for this?”

Silver’s voice is strangely calm as he asks this, and Ethan notes it’s the kind of calm that’s disquiet and resigned rather than peaceful. He regards Silver from the corner of his eye, watching him stare at the ground with that same look from before, the one that frightened him.

“Are _you_?” Ethan responds.

That look changes. It’s fear now, swimming through the slight wrinkles between Silver’s brows, sitting in the muscles that tighten around his lips.

He doesn’t know if he should reach out to Silver. Maybe a hand on the shoulder or some reassuring words. But Red scoffs and sends chills down his spine, so he settles for something else. “I thought you said you wanted me to meet him…”

Silver shuts his eyes and lets out a breath that Ethan didn’t realize he was holding in. When he opens his eyes and looks back up at the doors, the fear isn’t gone, but determination is much more evident on his face, however resigned it may be. He takes a deep breath and says, much more strongly than Ethan expects, “I did.”

Silver steps forward and places a hand on one of the doors, waiting for the lights to gather, glow, and then dim once the doors have been unlocked. Ethan thinks to speak before the doors open, even if it’s just to say something about the finality of Silver’s words. But Silver lowers his arm and the doors open into a room—

No. Not just a room. A home. One he managed to forget as completely as everything else, but the memory of this place hits him full-force when he sees it for the first time again. It’s different, in a way. Different to how Red sees it and different to how everyone before them saw it, but it’s also the same. Everything and nothing existing in this one place that only he has ever laid eyes on.

And it’s strange, how seeing it again fills him with a sense of belonging, a sense of responsibility, a sense of terror and joy and boredom and a myriad of other things that he still can’t place, just enough vaguely specific emotions to unbalance him and make him stumble over his feet. He laughs at himself, and he hears— _actually_ hears Red laugh as well. But whether it’s at or with him, Ethan doesn’t really know.

“Well,” a young voice says, bringing Ethan’s attention to the back of a tall leather seat farther in the room. Looking at the chair makes him feel something else. Jealousy? Possessiveness? Fear? “I guess it’s both,” Red continues. “You know, whether I’m laughing at or with you.” Red leans over the arm of the chair and grins at Ethan, eyes bright red and flickering in his round face. “It’s probably more ‘at,’ though.”

Fear. Definitely fear.

The dizziness gets worse, and Ethan reaches out blindly to steady himself against Silver’s shoulder. Ethan opens his mouth to say something, but he can hardly form a thought.

The grin on Red’s face grows at the sight of his helplessness, but it quickly slips into a frown when he looks at Silver. “Oh yeah. I forgot you were there. It took you long enough to get him here, you useless shit.”

Silver bows his head and responds disquietly, “My apologies, sir.” 

Red’s eyes narrow into a glare. “Did I say you could fucking speak…?” He huffs exasperatedly and rises from his chair, rubbing at his temple with a hand. “You’re still as much an untrained dog as when I first got here, and you still don’t know your damn place.”

The thought of Silver belonging on the soles of his shoes crosses Ethan’s mind. Maybe it’s his thought, or maybe it’s Red’s.

Red scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Or maybe it’s just _our_ thought, did you think that? No, of course you didn’t.” The boy presses his fists into his eyes and wipes his face. “Ugh, where are my manners… I’m just cranky because _this_ thing here,” he says as he looks at Silver, “took forever.”

Ethan tries again to speak but Red cuts him off, chiding, “Don’t try and say that’s your fault, Ethan. Silver’s a scapegoat, don’t take the blame from him.” The boy grins. “Actually!”

Red flickers out of existence and pops up right in front of Ethan. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, but even when they do, Red is still shimmering at the edges with the sound of static. “Do you wanna know something interesting?” Red asks him. Still grinning, the boy turns to Silver and reaches up to pinch the man’s nose between his forefinger and thumb, shaking Silver’s head back and forth forcefully. “Silver here is afraid of me. As he damn well should be.” And without hesitation, Red slaps him. With practiced ease, like it’s the most natural, routine thing in existence.

It’s strange to see. Almost amusing, even, to watch a child hit a man and not be punished in return, and to watch that man take the hit defenselessly and almost unflinchingly.

What isn’t amusing is how he feels nothing against it. Ethan knows he should feel mad or protective or _something_ , but there’s nothing there, and he knows it’s Red’s doing. Ethan’s grip tightens around Silver’s shoulder. Maybe it’s supposed to be an attempt at getting Silver out of Red’s path, or some weak way of showing support, or maybe he’s just trying to steady himself as the world starts swaying around him again. He glares at Red as best as he can and mutters, “Stop it…”

The grin on the boy’s face grows as he turns to face Ethan. “And by extension, he’s afraid of you!” he continues, ignoring Ethan’s words. “You know at first, he thought that with you, he would _finally_ have a friend because he’s been _oh so lonely_ ,” he mocks at Silver, pursing his lips like he’s cooing at an infant. “He just hasn’t had a friend in so long, the poor thing. I mean, I’ve been nothing but an asshole, and Blue grew far too distant for his liking, especially after Green.”

Ethan swallows down the nausea building in his stomach. “Who…?” he asks shakily.

The boy tilts his head to look up at him innocently, smiling too sweetly, even for a child. “Past lives, Ethan,” he explains. “Don’t worry, you’ll remember them and all the others in due time. But Green was quite a sweet young lady. Treated this thing here the way a mother would treat her son,” he says with a gesture to Silver. Red hesitates for a moment, frowns and shrugs. “Well, not the way my mother treated me. Or my father for that matter.” But the grin comes back and he quickly waves his words away. “But that’s a whole other story, and there’s no point in telling you that one since you’ll remember it anyway.”

The frown comes back the second Red turns to Silver to address him. “Look.”

Silver doesn’t hesitate to look down to meet the boy’s gaze.

“I have important things to tend to now,” Red tells him with a gesture toward Ethan. “So I _really_ don’t need your shitty, inconsequential presence around so… shoo.” He waves at Silver dismissingly.

Silver _does_ hesitate to comply with his order, however, regarding Ethan with a defeated look before doing anything about Red’s command. It’s frightening to Ethan how little there is in those flickering gray eyes. Just loss and hopelessness, and he thinks Silver might even be asking him not to apologize. But before Ethan can even think to react, Silver removes his hand from his shoulder, and vanishes without a word.

For a moment, Ethan’s mind is as empty as the space where Silver was standing, just a swirl of darkness and stars sparking in his vision. He hears Red laugh lightly, just before he feels himself falling back and being caught by a small hand, and that’s when his mind starts up again.

Ethan veers around and swats at the lanky arm propping him up, mouth opening to hiss or speak or shout—

“You know,” the boy sighs, effectively cutting off the rant that didn’t even get to form in Ethan’s mind. “You really oughta stop wondering why I treat him the way I do.” Red’s eyes meet his in a reprimanding glare. “I already told you why.”

Ethan scowls at him, standing straight now and feeling like the world isn’t going to collapse on itself. That much has to be Red’s doing as well. “Because he’s not ‘real?’” he hisses.

“Of course,” Red says flippantly. “Hm, maybe you _are_ smarter than I give you credit for.” He grins at Ethan, but the glint in his eyes suggests the opposite of his words. “But I guess you still wanna know _why_ he’s not real? Because it ‘doesn’t make any sense,’ right?” he asks, taking Ethan’s thoughts out of his mind.

Ethan opens his mouth to speak, but the instant the boy frowns, nothing but silence crawls up his throat. “You know,” Red says, looking at him with critical eyes, “for all you’ve remembered, you sure like to act like you haven’t remembered anything at all. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.”

Ethan’s breath only leaves him as a silent wheeze. Each fruitless attempt to speak sparks something inside him: fear, panic, anger, betrayal… awe. The boy grins and chuckles, eyes flashing. “I forgot how much fun it is to mess with something that’s actually _alive_ ,” Red tells him. “I mean, it’s one thing to treat Silver like shit on my shoes, but it’s another to fuck around with the thoughts and emotions of a real person. You react!” he laughs. “With a hundred different things all at the same time, and I can’t tell you how fun it is to watch that.”

Ethan grits his teeth. Everything swirls into anger, just beginning to burn again—but it dies quickly, before he can even curl his fingers.

“Oh, cut me some slack,” the boy chuckles. “I get bored. Unfortunately, Silver’s very simple, and it’s not like I’m allowed to do something like this to a living creature. You being the exception since you’re practically me but, you already knew that much.” His smile falls to that frown from before, the one with disappointment and impatience behind it. “So do you get it yet?”

No. He doesn’t. He’s not even sure what Red is asking him, and the boy responds by scoffing and rolling his eyes. “He’s not real because he’s never been alive, Ethan. You should’ve figured that out already. He’s practically just a figment of our imagination. As is everything and everyone else here. They never existed outside this place. Like those creatures that we both thought we killed off.” He looks away and grimaces. “But how can you kill something that’s not alive.” He scoffs again, wryly this time, with a bitter smirk to match. “Crazy how that weird sort of guilt can fuck with a kid when he has no idea that none of this is real. But you managed better than I did, that’s for sure.” He looks back up at Ethan, expression unchanged. “No wonder I’m an asshole, huh?”

Ethan tries to argue that whatever guilt and sorrow he felt, whatever anger and desire for revenge he felt, was only because of Red. Everything swirls again, cooling into something a bit sad.

“Ah,” Red utters. The bitterness melts from the boy’s expression, leaving behind something that almost seems apologetic. “That was really just you remembering things. Well, for the most part. Like I said, it’s fun messing with you.” He chuckles. “But that musta been pretty damn annoying, huh? I’d say I was lucky that Blue was so fucking calm when he went through all this, but maybe all that logic and lack of emotion is the reason I am the way I am now. I dunno,” he says with a shrug, “it’s not like I’m omniscient.” He pauses suddenly, turning wide, innocent eyes on Ethan. And for a moment, he looks like nothing more than a lost, ten-year-old boy. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I.”

A fitful cough wracks Ethan’s body suddenly, his voice returning to him in broken grunts. Red just shrugs noncommittally, but Ethan can feel something genuinely apologetic behind the action.

When Ethan can finally draw a breath without coughing, he clears his throat and looks down at Red. Skepticism is what he feels first, but then there’s pity, empathy, forgiveness, and all he can do is frown doubtfully and sorrowfully. “What are you doing?” Ethan asks.

“Nothing. I’m done messing with you. I’m not making you feel sorry for me.” His eyes narrow into warning, red slits. “I don’t want your sympathy, Ethan. And I don’t need it. But if you wanna wallow in that self-pity once I’ve become little more than part of your subconsciousness, go right on ahead. Oh.” His expression brightens, and that grin returns, flickering across his face. “That reminds me. Since I’m getting sick of this, I may as well ask. Are you ready to inherit all this? To ‘ascend to the throne’ and whatnot?” he mocks.

And it’s strange to Ethan that he can find it in himself to laugh lightly at Red’s words. “You already know my answer to that.”

Red nods and hums in confirmation. “But are you sure you’re ready? Just sitting up here for a few hundred of your years, making sure life keeps going—it gets kinda boring, remember?”

Silver comes to mind—as simple, as scum on his shoe, as unreal and as a scapegoat above anything else, and Red scowls in time with the frown that slowly appears on Ethan’s face.

“What, you want to point out holes in my logic?” Red spits, leaping to the conclusions that Ethan didn’t have the time to reach. “Yeah, I’m fucked up. I know that. But I’ve done my job. I’ve done it well. And treating Silver like a living thing isn’t included in that.” He grits his teeth and balls his hands into small fists.

The fire sparks again, licking at the ice swirling somewhere in Ethan’s gut.

“What, you want to keep him from being treated like shit? Then take it.” He gestures blindly to the seat at the desk behind him, his eyes flashing rapidly, the world flickering along with them. Lightning shoots out from behind the desk. “If you really think you’re ready, then take the damn seat from me. I fucking dare you.”


	30. Floor Eighteen | 18.2

It’s not anger burning inside him now. The fire jumps and burns in time with the light flashing in Red’s eyes, but it’s not anger. It’s not revenge.

“Well?!” Red shouts.

It’s something like desperation, like a will to fight though there isn’t much of a point. But there’s something else, too. Something like uncertainty and confusion, like doubt and fear, and he can see it flashing in Red’s eyes.

And yet, there’s still something a little sad in Ethan’s stomach. “I thought you wanted to leave,” Ethan says cautiously. The fire settles into something a little surprised, and Ethan straightens and continues, “Didn’t you say you were sick of this?”

It flickers with disbelief for a moment, but the flames quickly spark back to life. Red tightens his fists and lightning shoots from the desk again, from the cheeks of a Pikachu now sitting atop it. “I am,” Red hisses. But despite the boy’s efforts, his voice still shakes, just enough to be noticeable. Red is aware of that; Ethan can feel it in the slight embarrassment that follows, in the twinge that accompanies a lie, and in the way the world around them shimmers.

Red scoffs. “What’s it matter to you?” he growls. “I told you, I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Ethan.”

Everything around them flashes. Changes. From the home he recognized the moment he stepped through the doors, to the playground or the attic from Red’s memories, to the place Ethan vaguely recalls as his own home. The images jump, static cuts through them, and if it’s not Red’s anger that he feels, it’s a dull longing instead.

Ethan takes a deep breath and taps a foot on the floor, and it stops. The images stop flashing and the world settles into a large, seemingly endless room. The glass ceiling is still there, with everything and nothing still beyond it, as are the chair and the desk and the Pikachu still standing atop it with sparking cheeks, but all of it twists his stomach with a painful familiarity. The memory that comes to him, clearly and suddenly, is the memory of dying.

“I know,” he sighs, hardly paying attention to the shock on Red’s face. He still feels the boy’s surprise in his own chest though, oozing over his heart and lungs and spreading like frost.

But Red’s expression tightens in anger—grit teeth, flared nostrils, clenched fists—and the fire blazes again. “Thunderbolt!” he screams.

Ethan hears electricity pop and crackle, and his breath catches in his throat as that Raichu comes to mind. The fire freezes over for a moment, just long enough for Ethan to catch Red’s sickening glee over his fear, at the memory of loss and sorrow that was never his to begin with, before it burns again. And Ethan knows he can’t lose another one of them, real or not.

Rhydon appears almost instinctively, standing as a shield before him and absorbing the electricity unflinchingly. The Pikachu appears at Red’s feet in a flash of light, growling up at his stony opponent and baring his fangs. And looking nowhere near as frightening as Surge’s Raichu.

Red’s indignation flares in his stomach, and before long it’s scorching him, stabbing him from the inside and searing enough to make Ethan stagger back a few steps. He smells it again—lightning and lilies, burning his throat and nose and filling his lungs with smoke. It makes his eyes water from the stench and the sudden emptiness that leaves him cold.

“I’m sure I’m frightening enough,” Red growls.

He can almost see it again—see her running, see the lightning, feel her fizzling form at his fingertips, but it’s not real. Even despite the sorrow and the headache and the dizziness, he knows it’s not real. It’s not his. And he thinks, for a short moment, that Red might be losing his touch.

Ethan wipes his eyes and coughs, and when he glances up at Red, he can see the cold shock in the boy’s eyes again. Ethan stumbles to the side, but he manages to catch himself, and even amidst his foreign thoughts he manages to pull his focus into the present. “Earthquake,” he gets out in a strained voice.

It’s a sudden flash of fear that snaps him out of it, that scares away the sadness and the dizziness and forces him to take a sharp breath of air—

“Pikachu!”

And when he looks at the boy again, the Pikachu is suddenly in his arms, clutched desperately against his chest. Everything seems to freeze, and everything flickers in and out of existence. Even Red. There’s a thought that crosses Ethan’s mind at the sight of Red’s panic, and he’s not entirely sure what it is, but Ethan taps his foot on the ground and the flashing stops again, revealing a Venusaur as the Pikachu’s replacement, and what he mutters is, “You’re such a hypocrite…”

Red snarls at him, his face twisting into something more like a beast’s than a child’s, and time starts again.

Rhydon’s foot slams into the ground, cracking the tiles beneath him and sending a fissure racing toward the Venusaur. The Venusaur roars and staggers back on his heavy legs, but the attack catches up to him and rams pillars of glass and steel into his scaly underbelly.

Red scoffs, and his hold on the Pikachu finally loosens enough for the creature to clamber up onto his head protectively. Without warning, sunlight shines down through the ceiling and the floor patches itself up, just the way Red wants. “Solarbeam!”

“Xatu.”

Light gathers in the enormous petals on the Venusaur’s back, but Rhydon vanishes and Xatu immediately takes his place just before the attack fires. Xatu swerves out of the way, easily avoiding the beam of light shooting from the Venusaur’s flower.

“Now trap it with Psychic!” Ethan yells up at the bird. He glances at Red before looking back at Xatu. “Don’t let him switch out.”

It’s not exactly fear this time, and not exactly indignation, but there’s something offended and vulnerable that hovers over his nerves, and the look Red gives him is one of worry and disbelief.

Ethan looks back to the scene before them, with Xatu soaring overhead, eyes glowing and surrounding Venusaur with an equally bright light. He doesn’t know what exactly Xatu does—doesn’t _want_ to know—but whatever it is makes the Venusaur screech in pain suddenly, unable to move aside from the panicked way his eyes dart about. But even as his screams cut into grinding static and as his image shimmers and flickers and eventually disappears, all Ethan can feel is Red staring at him in alarm and denial.

When he looks back at Red, the Pikachu is chattering into Red’s ear, though the boy’s cold eyes are still watching Ethan. Red doesn’t respond right away, but eventually he huffs and mutters, “Fine.” The Pikachu’s ears perk up and his cheeks spark with enthusiasm. He doesn’t waste a moment to leap to the floor, eyes trained on the airborne Xatu.

Red’s careful gaze on Ethan heats into a glare before he finally brings his eyes to the battle again. “Thunder! And don’t let up until that fucking bird is dead!”

The Pikachu stands on his hind legs, cheeks sparking, mouth grinning with malicious intent and eyes set on carrying out his order. He screams as lightning rips from his small body, shooting out in tens of directions and threatening to blind Ethan with the sheer brightness of the attack. Ethan shields his eyes with his arms, hissing against the light and the very likely possibility that Xatu can’t avoid that attack, but the smell of smoke and burnt fur fills his nose and it’s far too strong and present for him to bring himself to worry.

He doesn’t look back to the field until he hears Red’s exasperated exclamation: “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Ethan looks up to see Xatu flying calmly and uninjured, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. It’s pride. “Go for Psychic again!”

“Like hell,” Red growls.

Something protective flares in Ethan. He glances back at the boy and finds the Pikachu in Red’s arms again, chittering something angrily as he struggles against the boy and tries to jump back in.

Instead, Xatu’s Psychic takes hold of an Espeon, but the feline’s eyes glow and she breaks free almost instantly, her tail swishing behind her and her head held high.

“Shadow Ball!” Red orders. “And don’t fucking miss!”

The Espeon’s eyes glow and dark energy gathers in the air before her, swirling and settling into numerous black orbs. She yowls and the orbs shoot forward, like bullets ripping through the air intent on hitting their mark. Xatu swerves and dives and manages to avoid most of them, but one manages to strike his wing and interrupt him, and after that they bombard him and leave spiraling toward the ground.

What Ethan feels first is his own instinctual fear that he’s lost yet another one. But then Red’s malicious satisfaction burns through that and Ethan has to question if it’s even his own fear in the first place.

Xatu spreads his wings at the last second and catches himself before he dives into the floor, pulling himself upright into a glide. He gains some more height, but the way he flaps his wings is tired and pained and Ethan knows he won’t last much longer.

Red smirks. “One more oughta do it, Espeon.”

The Espeon cries in agreement, but once the orbs gather around her again, Xatu disappears with a flash of light and is instead replaced by Snorlax, who looks around curiously before smiling back at Ethan. Red frowns—though Ethan can’t tell if he’s frowning at Snorlax or his switch—and the Espeon drops her attack in compliance with the boy’s thoughts.

“Snorlax, use your own Shadow Ball.”

Red tosses his head to the side and scoffs as Snorlax charges up his attack, firing one large orb at Espeon as opposed to a wave of bullets. But the Espeon easily dances around it and looks back at Red for her order, her tail swaying lazily in the air.

The boy smirks as he places his squirming Pikachu on his head. He looks at Ethan and grins. “Why don’t we use that little trick of his against him?”

The Espeon’s eyes glow again, and before long that same light has Snorlax trapped and roaring in pain.

That fear settles somewhere in Ethan’s chest again, a fear that’s his and not his. And he figures that if Red can do it…

It doesn’t take too much thought or too much focus to break the Espeon’s concentration. It’s like snapping his fingers, and he can almost hear the sound as it happens. The Espeon’s ears flatten and her eyes widen, the light in them now gone, and she recoils and hisses at the air, unsure of who exactly was her assailant.

Ethan smiles a bit as he sees Magneton begin to take Snorlax’s place, but rage suddenly flares in his stomach. It burns and lashes and races up his spine. It pounds in his head and he stumbles back as everything sways around him again.

“You fucking cheat!”

Ethan takes a careful breath, bracing himself against the dizziness and the stars in his vision. He laughs wryly, hardly even aware that he does. “Yeah. Because it’s not like you did the same to save your precious Pikachu,” he says. But there’s a venom in his voice that doesn’t feel like it belongs to him.

The fury hits him again, sinking into his flesh, his bones, his muscles and nerves. It leaves him unable to breathe and entirely senseless, and when he can finally see past the darkness in his vision, all he’s aware of is the floor now inches from his face and the tiles beneath his hands and knees. He doesn’t remember falling.

“ _Psychic_!”

The word echoes in his mind before he truly acknowledges it. It takes just as long for him to register the Espeon crying out soon afterward, then his Magneton sparking and whirring somewhere above him. It feels like an eternity passes before he can get back up and stand on his shaky legs.

“Kill it! I want that damn thing erased from all existence!”

Ethan winces when he finally hears the high-pitched whine above everything else, and it takes him a bit to press his palms against his ears in an effort to quiet it. It takes a bit longer for him to finally look back up, to see the Espeon and her glowing eyes, his Magneton hovering motionlessly and screeching. He doesn’t know how or when he does it, but he manages to focus his thoughts enough to call for one attack. And even then, it takes a while for him to register the Espeon’s dying screech and her fizzling form and the strange mix of shock, anger, fear, and desperation that sinks in his stomach.

He almost thinks it’s funny, as he watches Red send his Charizard out. As he watches the Pikachu try to leap into the battle again, and watches the boy hold the little creature back. It’s almost funny.

He watches fire shoot from the Charizard’s mouth. Watches Slowbro take Magneton’s place. Watches Red shout some angry order. It’s almost funny, even as Slowbro arrogantly pulls water from the air again to trap and drown her foe.

Even as the Charizard struggles to escape, as Red fails to save one of them again, as the Charizard drowns and flickers and disappears and then it’s nothing but cold fear that he can feel crawling into his lungs—even then it’s almost funny. Almost.

So he has to wonder why part of him feels absolutely terrified.


	31. Floor Eighteen | 18.3

He laughs a little when Red sends a Blastoise out, still keeping the Pikachu trapped in his arms. He doesn’t know why that’s the boy’s choice but he’s certain there’s hardly any strategy behind it, not with those sparks of fury and fear and sorrow racing along his spine.

“The fuck are you laughing a—bout.”

He thinks about saying something, but he doesn’t really have an answer. And really there’s something too strange about how broken the boy looks and sounds for him to think of anything. The only coherent thought he forms is that of static on a screen. And maybe Red thinks that thought as well because he snarls and he stops flickering and he snaps back into place with a startling pop.

Red mutters something to himself. His Pikachu looks up at him in concern, but the boy ignores him in favor of shouting, “Blizzard!”

He doesn’t really hear Red’s Blastoise roar. The sound is dull and brushes against his ears, like a thought echoing in his mind, but the frigid wind that follows is much more noticeable. It pricks his skin and raises every hair on his arms and on the back of his neck, and really, all he wants is his jacket back. He’s pretty sure he had one at some point.

He hears Red’s voice say something when a jacket—his old one or a new one, he doesn’t really know and it doesn’t really matter—finds its way around him, and he slips his arms into it carefully, thankful for the warmth it offers. Then there’s the quiet thought that Slowbro might not appreciate the cold either, because, right, she’s out there right now, isn’t she?

He doesn’t look up. Maybe zipping up his jacket is more interesting or maybe it’s just that he knows (and that Red knows because he does, doesn’t he) how this is going to turn out, or maybe it’s a different, unrelated reason—but whatever it is, he doesn’t look up. He doesn’t _need_ to look up to know that Magneton is out there now. Besides, that sudden flash of fear is enough indication of that much.

He feels anger again, and he smiles against it, tucking his hands into his pockets as Red screams for something. Surf? He thinks it’s Surf. It must be, he can feel the subtle change in humidity, can feel a few droplets of water against his face, and he keeps smiling because this is all so pointless.

Zap Cannon. He whispers it, but he’s sure Red can hear it or feel it anyway. Magneton certainly does because he hears it whirring, charging, crackling, firing; hears Blastoise roaring, flickering, disappearing; feels that anger and fear again and he smiles anyway because it _is_ a little funny. Maybe morosely so but it really is a little funny. It’s so pointless.

He knows curses are shooting past Red’s lips, trembling just slightly with the boy’s voice, and he can hear the Pikachu interrupting him but failing to get his attention. In fact, the only thing the little creature does is prompt Red to hold him more tightly, more desperately, and that makes his smile falter. Because it _is_ pointless and it _is_ unfair and he wishes Red was actually given a chance.

The floor shakes when Red’s Snorlax appears. He glances up at her, though he doesn’t really need to. He already knows she’s larger than his own Snorlax, with sharper claws, sharper teeth, and a violent disposition.

The thought doesn’t reach his lips, but Magneton obeys regardless, firing a Zap Cannon without a moment to spare. However, Red yells something else, and a forgetful look crosses the Snorlax’s face. Zap Cannon hits, but it leaves little more than static crawling over the Snorlax’s fur, making it stand on end and making her look even larger than she is. It makes him frown a little. He thinks Red is just trying to waste his time now.

He sighs, and this time he watches the lights envelope Magneton as it’s pulled out and replaced by Primeape. It’s just anger that he feels this time; no regret on Red’s part, no desire to go back and fix his move. The boy is actually quick to shout something. He thinks it’s an order for Body Slam, though he’s not entirely sure. The words are still muffled and fuzzy, standing on the edge of frustrating and he can feel the sound pressing against his mind unpleasantly.

He brings a hand to his forehead and watches Primeape dodge the attack, leaping over swiping paws, avoiding surprisingly quick feet, and maybe it’s just a few seconds of this or a minute or more (it’s hard to tell with the muted sound of stomping and shrieking and roaring clouding his head) but that anger comes back, hot and impatient and Red is shouting something well before he realizes it.

The boy catches his Primeape somehow, locking him in place like helpless prey and there’s something too loud about the silence in his head for him to do anything about it. There’s just a dull fear behind Red’s anger, and it doesn’t spike until Snorlax comes crashing down on Primeape.

It’s sudden and strange—and far too familiar: the way it shoots out of his chest and stops his heart and makes him feel numb. And when Snorlax gets up and Primeape isn’t moving, it makes him cold and heavy and there’s laughter in the back of head, breaking through the fog without permission.

Red is saying something. He’s sure of it. And he knows the boy is wearing some cheeky grin as well, perfectly content with what he’s accomplished and with the power he has managed to maintain.

Except, well, power is transferrable, isn’t it? At the very least, he knows that’s true in this case. He can feel it, rightfully so, and when he orders Primeape to get up again, he stands.

He feels Red’s heart sink, and when he looks at the boy, there’s something absolutely despondent in his eyes.

He frowns with the feeling this time. His fingers close into loose fists, the nails scratching against the fabric of his pockets, and he looks down at the floor. Lights not unlike those lifelines are flashing in the tiles, and he wonders where his is—not his own, but the one that will be his. The one that currently belongs to Red.

His head aches with the thought, and he looks up to see Red glaring at him, shouting something at him. Probably curses that never reach his ears. And maybe Red knows that he can’t hear him, because the boy turns to his Snorlax and says something else, and she roars and she runs—

But it’s pointless.

He sighs and looks away. He doesn’t want to watch, and he doesn’t need to, not to know how it ends, or when it ends. He doesn’t want or need to see the look on Red’s face when Primeape leaps up and brings his fists down on Snorlax’s head. He doesn’t want to see it when Snorlax breaks, when she screeches and disappears. He doesn’t need to because he feels it anyway. It’s a strange mix of things, but it’s the hopelessness that settles deepest, heavy enough to make him stumble, and that sends the world careening around him again.

He feels the Pikachu chirp something, feels Red yell at the small thing, feels the tears pricking the boy’s eyes and the panic welling in his chest. And then there’s a moment of silence, quiet enough to make his ears ring and make his head hurt again. And he can feel everything around him change, back to the room, the home, that place that’s always the same and always different and where he’ll be staying until—

Red flashes before his eyes. He sees the boy glaring at him, his eyes watery, his entire being shimmering at the edges. He sees the boy’s hands at his throat, sees Silver’s hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling, and Red is yelling something at him but he can’t hear it.

Red grits his teeth and the world shakes, moving back and forth outside him, around him, until it finally registers in his head and makes the aching worse, and it takes even longer for him to register that Red is shaking _him_ and that his small hands are too tight around his throat and the fog is finally starting to clear.

“…me now?! Huh?! Can you fucking hear me now you piece of shit?!”

He chokes out a sound and Red throws him back and Silver catches him before he can fall to the ground… and all he can wonder is _why?_

He sees the Pikachu at Red’s feet, flickering madly and looking up at the boy with sorrow. He’s not sure if Red notices. The way the boy glares at him (or maybe at Silver, it’s hard for him to tell) suggests otherwise, but he can feel that there’s something Red is desperately trying to ignore.

“What do you mean fucking ‘why?’” he hisses. “You spend all your time holding on to shreds of sanity, thinking you won’t care, but then you look your end dead in the fucking face and suddenly it’s _real_.” He spits out a wry laugh and flickers with the sound. “It’s not fair. It—”

He hears static all around him: from Silver at his side, from the floor beneath his feet, from the Pikachu and from Red. All of it jumps, cuts, disappears and reappears with a harsh sound that makes his head throb and fills his stomach with nausea. He swallows it down and focuses, because Red clearly can’t keep everything together any longer.

He feels everything snap back into place again, but more than anything he feels Red’s alarm. He hears the boy trying to catch his breath again, seething without purpose, trying to ignore the fact that his Pikachu is now gone. He can see the tears welling in Red’s eyes, and he thinks he can feel them welling in his own.

Red wipes at his eyes furiously. “Fuck, just… just go put him in his damn seat.”

Silver gets him to the desk, though he doesn’t remember walking or being guided there. By the time he’s seated, his mind is focused on the glass top of the desk in front of him, glowing with lights and images of worlds, stars, animals, people, plants, even the smallest insects.

“Hey,” he says quietly, surprised by how hoarse he sounds.

He feels Silver glance back at Red anxiously. “Yes?”

“I’m just supposed to…” He takes a shaky breath and struggles to keep his eyes open. “To… basically… keep everything alive… Right?”

Silver hesitates, but eventually he answers, “Basically, yes, that is all you have to do.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Silver’s hand fidgeting nervously. He thinks to say something about it, or to at least look at Silver, but he feels too heavy to move and it’d be nicer to just shut his eyes and sleep.

“Gold,” he says uncertainly. “If… it is not too much to ask, may I—?”

He tries to laugh but it comes out as a sharp cough instead. He shuts his eyes and smiles. “Of course…”

He hears Silver leave his side, hears his footsteps approach Red and by that point, it’s almost like he’s dreaming. He can feel Red wiping at his eyes as Silver approaches him, can feel his body flickering and slowly vanishing, can feel the words come out of his mouth: “I didn’t ask you to fucking come back.”

“I know. Sir,” Silver hastily adds.

Red chuckles dryly. “Oh so eager for me to be gone already, huh?”

“Sir—”

Red glares up at him. “Oh don’t fucking dare,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare act like you care, I’ve done nothing but treat you like shit so _don’t_.”

Silver doesn’t say anything. He frowns and looks away sadly.

Red scoffs and lifts a hand to watch it flash, to watch himself disappearing. “Predictably loyal to the very end, huh.” He lowers his hand and waits a moment before speaking again. “Do you remember?” he asks cautiously, careful not to look at Silver. “When I woke up as Red and I told you I’d make you regret ever picking me up off the side of the road?” Silver doesn’t answer, but he continues anyway. “I don’t think it’s actually… possible for you to feel that way about me… No matter what kind of person I’m reborn as. My first self made you, after all… Why would she have wanted you to hate her?”

Something wistful crosses Silver’s face.

“I never even bothered to remember what she called you… Hell,” Red laughs, but it sounds distorted and it matches the way he flickers, “I don’t even remember what _her_ name was. But… I’ll bet you do.”

Silver nods slowly. “Green was very much like her.”

“Yeah… I know…”

The dizziness overtakes him, and Red stumbles and falls, right into Silver’s arms when he moves to catch the boy without hesitation. “You know…” Red breathes out, trying and failing to stand, his entire being dissolving. “This is always the worst part…”

Silver agrees. He doesn’t voice it yet but he does, and he watches as absolutely everything cuts to static—this world, the world beyond, even Red and himself. He watches as Red slips away, and he can feel himself slipping away as well and eventually he whispers, “It is…”

Ethan takes his last breath.


	32. Floor Eighteen | 18.4

Before anything, he breathes. And he feels the universe breath with him.

It’s unnecessary, but instinctual, and the first thought he’s aware of is simply that. As the air rushes into his lungs, filling him with consciousness and with something that isn’t quite life, his first thought is that he doesn’t need to breathe.

Still, that tightness takes hold of his throat and chest, and it takes a while for him to remember to exhale, then inhale, then exhale again.

As he reminds himself how to breathe (because, he decides, it’s too strange not to), he opens his eyes, and while the first thing he sees is the desk before him, the first things he focuses on are his hands.

They’re larger than he remembers. The fingernails are a different shape, the skin a darker color, the palms more calloused. He lifts them shakily, slowly curling and uncurling his fingers, feeling the soft pull of skin over muscle, the subtle creak in his joints. When he touches his fingers to his palms the first time, he feels the touch race up his arms and settle in his shoulders. After that, it’s normal. It almost tickles.

He presses his hands to his face, urging heavy arms and aching muscles to comply. He misses his jaw somehow, and ends up placing his palms over his ears, nestling his fingers in hair that’s coarser than he remembers. His hands slowly reach for his forehead and brush the hair back, and that’s when he has his second conscious thought:

_What’s my name?_

He thinks of blood first. Of a Pikachu’s cheeks. Of a boy who died too young. But that’s not it. Red isn’t his name. It sounds familiar, and he thinks it used to be his name—no, it _was_ , it definitely _was_ his name. But he can’t remember what it is now.

His hands drop to the arms of his chair and he looks at the desk again. The top of it is lit, displaying various beautiful images that he’s sure he’s seen before. And while one image in particular—that of a small, blue planet—catches his eyes, he’s quickly distracted by the fact that time appears to have stopped. He wonders if Red did that himself, or if it happened when they—he?—died.

He takes a deep breath like it would help clear his thoughts, like it would help him remember, help him figure out what his damn name was. There’s a vague thought that _someone_ is supposed to help him do just that, but he can’t remember anything beyond red hair.

Something about that irritates him.

So he huffs as he turns in his seat, eager to get up and stretch his new legs and hopefully figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to be doing. But he looks too far to his right and _he_ is there.

It’s the eyes that do it. Gray and fearful and so full of desperate hope it almost makes him sick and he can’t figure out why.

He looks away immediately. Several names come to mind but the one that sticks is Silver, and that name fills his head and heart with too many conflicting thoughts and emotions for him to focus on. The strongest ones, though, are the angry, hateful ones.

He grits his teeth and focuses on standing, grasping the arms of his chair as tightly as he can, pushing up, steadying himself on two feet, and taking one step—

And something happens, and he’s seeing darkness and everything tilts and “Gold!” fills his mind and echoes and—

Gold. That’s his name.

This time, the first thing he sees is the floor, smooth and polished beneath his hands and inches from his face. He gets the feeling it’s missing some lights but he can’t be sure.

Gold hears something in the back of his mind, reaching through the fog and the fading darkness. It’s muffled, but the voice is familiar enough and it prompts him to look up in indignation.

Silver is looking down at him. Gold can feel the man’s hand on his shoulder, and it fills him with a sudden disgust that he can’t place. He sits up quickly, shaking Silver’s hand off in the process and summoning stars to his vision again. Everything sways and he waits for it to settle before trying to stand on his own.

Silver offers him a hand, and something snaps.

Gold swats his hand away. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

He almost misses the pain in Silver’s eyes, but he catches it as he turns back to his chair to steady himself against it, and it makes him frown. That wasn’t right. Something’s not right.

Gold struggles to get to his feet, but he finally manages, with both hands on his chair to keep from falling if his legs give out again. He’s aware of Silver taking a few steps back as he does this, and he catches the man bowing slightly, waiting before saying, “Forgive me… sir. I did not mean to insult you.”

The title catches him by surprise, and he fixes Silver with a strange look. He tests his weight on his legs, slowly removing his hands from the chair, and takes a careful step forward, thankful that his knees don’t buckle. “Sir?” Gold repeats.

Silver looks up at him—nervously, he notes, and he knows there’s something wrong about that too—but he doesn’t say anything.

Gold sighs. He doesn’t want to explain himself, nor does he think he needs to, but he complies. “Look, I can’t remember very much right now, but I’m pretty sure you’ve never called me that.”

Silver’s eyes light up. He straightens and his eyes light up with hope, and it’s not that desperate hope from before. It’s like he’s beaming on the inside and afraid to show it, and Gold has to wonder why that would be the case. He waits for Silver to say something, but when the man keeps staring, he raises an eyebrow.

Silver’s eyes widen a little. “O-of course!” He bows his head. “My apologies, Gold.”

Gold scowls. “And stop bowing. Stop acting so fucking weird.”

He turns back to his chair and carefully sits down, and he misses the small smile on Silver’s face.

Gold huffs as he settles himself and frowns. “Now—look, you’re supposed to help me figure shit out, right?” The words don’t feel quite right in his mouth. “I mean, I know what I’m supposed to do with all this,” he says with a gesture to the lights and images on his desk. “But, right now my mind is just a blank page. That’s… normal, right?” He glances up at Silver.

“Yes. You are free to leave the living realm suspended if you wish to gather your thoughts first.”

Gold props his head up on one fist, his other hand scratching at the arm of his chair. “Okay… Well, you could help me remember things, right? Like, I feel like I’m supposed to hate you, but then I feel like I’m not supposed to, and it’s honestly pretty damn confusing.”

The look Silver gives him is a curious mix of disappointment and hopefulness. “That… would be Red. Do you remember him?”

“I remember the _name_. He was a kid, right? My, uh,” he says as he looks up at him, his fingers no longer scratching the chair, “most recent past self, I’m guessing?”

Silver nods. “That is correct.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t like you much, huh.”

He says it matter-of-factly, so it surprises him that Silver nearly flinches and that he looks away and mutters, “Not at all…”

It comes back to him, with much more detail than the vague memory of an angry boy. They’re cruel and spiteful: the words, the slapping, the attitude. It’s appalling. It leaves him staring at Silver in shock, and it takes him a while to voice anything at all. “Wow, I was… I was a real asshole.”

Silver frowns sorrowfully. “Not you exactly, just… It was easiest for him to deal with his anguish by placing the blame on me, and I can understand that.”

Gold raises an eyebrow and leans back in his seat. “So you were willingly his, near-literal, punching bag?”

“He was just a child.” But it sounds defensive to Gold’s ears. “Considering what I know about his life as a human, I have no reason to believe he could have dealt with that any differently.”

“Yeah, _before_ he became Red. He didn’t…” Gold frowns. “Well, he didn’t abuse you before that.”

Silver’s eyes narrow with a stubborn, unbelieving determination that Gold thinks doesn’t look right on his face. “He had no reason, nor did he have any need, to treat me with kindness and respect.” He pauses, but when he continues, he sounds sad. “His responsibility, and yours as well, concerns only the living, and you cannot deny the fact that I am not alive. I am not made of flesh, blood, and bone the way you were. I am not comprised of the same elements as a living creature. Nothing here is.” He looks down at his hand sorrowfully. “I do not think I could ever tell you what we _are_ made of, but it most certainly is not life. As a result… what happens to me or anything else here is inconsequential.” Silver faces him, and it’s strange for Gold to see him so dejected. “You can easily replace everything here, provided that you have the energy for it. Nothing here truly matters so long as your existence continues.”

Gold blinks. And he stares, caught somewhere between confusion and astonishment. “Wow, that’s depressing.”

The sorrow on Silver’s face is quickly overtaken by uncertainty. “I’m sorry?”

“Well it’s just,” Gold chuckles. “You’re making it sound like Red’s ‘you’re not real’ speech really got to you. Who cares if you’re not alive,” he says as he faces the desk again. “You still exist.”

Silver stares at him, shocked. “Y… Yes, but—”

“Nope, no buts. I’m not going to listen to you try to justify my past self’s actions.” He tries to focus on the desk and what he has to do, but the thought crosses his mind, and he frowns and turns back to Silver. “Oh and, on his behalf… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

He watches Silver’s eyes jump a little, like he’s looking for something in his expression. Gold can’t tell if he finds it or not, but Silver eventually looks away, seemingly uncertain of how to respond. It’s unnerving. Enough so that Gold asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I… I simply did not expect that from you.”

“Because of Red?”

Silver nods slowly. “Yes.”

The word sounds reluctant, and it makes Gold frown. He turns back to his desk. “Well, I at least hope the person I was before wasn’t _that_ shitty.”

“I am assuming you mean Ethan, correct?” Silver hesitates to say the name, like he’s not used to speaking it, and for whatever reason, Gold finds it endearing.

“Ethan…” Gold nods and looks up at him again. “Yeah, that sounds right. Was he an asshole too?”

He’s surprised by the fondness in Silver’s smile. “Not at all. He was kind to me in a way no one had been in quite a long time.”

“Well, at least I wasn’t always a terrible person,” he laughs. He pulls his seat forward and looks down at his desk. “So, how does this go again? Just make sure life keeps going, right?”

“Yes. If you would like, I could show you—”

Gold holds up a hand, stopping Silver as he reaches for the desk. “No, no, I can figure it out. The memories will all come back to me, right? Although, if I’m about to fuck up really badly, please let me know.”

“Of course,” Silver chuckles.

“Oh, and, for the record… I’m sorry.”

Silver furrows his eyebrows. “You already apologized for Red’s actions.”

“No, I mean…” Gold shrugs and looks up at him apologetically. “You know, for swatting at you when you tried to help me up earlier? Sorry… That was probably Red, I hope, and not me. Or, uh, not Ethan I guess. Well, I guess I’m not technically Ethan anymore but—well, you know.”

Silver chuckles softly. “You do not—”

“And don’t say I don’t need to apologize!”

He smiles. “Then… I forgive you.”


	33. Rooftop

The first time it happened, Silver didn’t know what to say. If he remembers correctly, they were talking. He can’t recall _what_ they were talking about, but they were in the middle of a conversation—in fact, Gold was in the middle of laughing—when the flickering started again. And all he can really remember after that is the absolute fear that followed.

If he has to be honest, he would admit that he’s been afraid ever since. There were some moments when he forgot about it, about the dread and anxiety, but sometimes Gold did something—maybe it was a smile or a laugh or the way he said something—and he would remember again.

But what’s worse than remembering the fear is remembering the sorrow and the loneliness that he knows will follow. Whenever he thinks back to Green, he remembers her crying when she left. He remembers crying as well. He wonders if the same thing will happen again.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed since the flickering started, or how much time has passed since Gold first awoke. It has always been difficult to measure time here, and he never truly understood time in the way people typically do. There are no minutes or hours here. No day or night, no months or seasons. Not really. Gold can make the “sun” rise or set as he pleases, can make it snow or rain if he wants, but it’s not real.

Sometimes, like now, as he stares past the glass ceiling and at the twilit sky, Silver wishes it is.

The sound of Xatu’s fluttering wings reaches his ears. He turns toward it and smiles. Green used to keep the creatures around as well. Blue didn’t. Red only occasionally allowed his Pikachu to roam around. It makes him happy to think that good traits can be repeated, but that fear coils up his spine and settles in his stomach. If that’s the case, then what about the bad ones?

Xatu lands at his feet and brushes a wing over his arm, clicking something at him.

Silver runs a hand over Xatu’s head and the bird leans into his touch. “Does Gold need me for something?”

Xatu nods and clicks again before stepping back and taking off.

Silver remembers thinking it was strange that Gold didn’t summon him by thought or name. Instead, Gold would send Xatu for him or he’d look for Silver himself. As far as Silver can remember, that’s not something anyone else has done.

He could make it to Gold’s side in a matter of seconds (a thought, a flash, and he’s there), but he opts to walk instead. His steps are hesitant, though, like he doesn’t want to jostle the anxiety nestled in the pit of his stomach. Maybe this time, Gold will say he has found someone. Maybe now is when it starts all over again.

He spots Snorlax napping contently as he makes his way back, but he doesn’t see any of the others. He assumes they’ve gone exploring again. Or, in Slowbro’s case, looking for a fight. That’s something else that’s different. Gold allows them to leave here, and the thought of revisiting Koga or one of the others crosses his mind before Gold’s Meganium does.

That triggers the memory of Ethan sitting at the base of a tree, stubbornly insisting that Meganium’s death wasn’t supposed to bother him so much. He also remembers what happened before that: the way Red yelled at him for wanting to help Ethan and the resulting sting on his cheek.

He thinks about his loyalties and he thinks about Red’s Pikachu and he thinks about why Gold decided not to bring Meganium back. Gold said it just wouldn’t feel right, especially now that she has been gone for so long. He said something about letting the dead rest in peace. Silver has thought about it, and even asked Gold for an explanation, but he still can’t understand it. She isn’t really dead, in the same way that none of them are really alive. He tries to brush it off as something human, as something he could never understand, though he still hopes to, one day.

Unsurprisingly, Rhydon stayed behind. Silver finds him standing quietly by Gold’s side, as always, and he doesn’t know if it’s the thought of his loyalties or if it’s something else, but the dread in his stomach gets heavier.

Gold looks over the back of his chair and smiles when he spots Silver. “You took forever.”

“Apologies,” he mumbles.

Gold rolls his eyes good-naturedly and waves him over. “Come, look. I found her.”

“Her?” Silver asks nervously as he walks up to him.

Rhydon rumbles a greeting at him, and Silver returns it with a nod before the creature walks away.

“Yeah, my successor. If that’s what you wanna call her.” Gold stretches his arms overhead. But his hands shimmer suddenly and Silver can feel it in the way his own being flickers. The dread grows colder and heavier, and he misses the frown that crosses Gold’s face.

Gold drops his arms and huffs. “Anyway, the only problem is that she’s really young. She’s only eight.”

Red comes to mind.

“So I’ll have to wait fifteen or twenty years,” Gold says with a shrug. “I think I can hold out long enough.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

Gold looks up at him and furrows his brow. “What?”

His eyes are incredibly bright. They always have been, even as Ethan. They remind him of sunlight, but there’s nothing happy about the way Gold is looking at him now. Silver looks away. “That might be too long for you…”

He hears static. He feels his hand flickers in response.

“I’ll be fine,” Gold laughs, but the hesitation in his voice is difficult to miss. “And it’ll be worth it anyway. She won’t have to go through the same thing Red did and, well, neither will you.”

It’s fond, the way he says it, and it makes Silver’s heart ache. He wonders again how much time has passed since the flickering started, since Gold first awoke. Since Green left him. This feels almost the same as then…

“Are you aware of how much you are risking?” he asks quietly.

Gold laughs. There’s no hesitation this time, but there is a touch of sorrow. “Everything. Literally everything.”

“Gold…” Silver glances at the desk, unable to meet Gold’s eyes. “I must suggest that you find someone else. That is too much of a risk.”

“Nope, no. She’ll be perfect. I might not know everything but I know that much. It’s kind of an instinct.”

“But, Gold…”

And that’s as far as he gets. He can’t get past the anxiety and the terror and above all the sorrow.

And maybe Gold grows impatient, waiting for him to continue, or maybe he just understands, but Gold grabs his wrist and pulls him down into a chair that suddenly appears and makes him look him in the eye. “What?” But there’s something forceful and pained in the way Gold asks that, something bright and frightened in his eyes.

Silver can’t even think of a response.

“No, tell me. ‘But’ what? What reason do you have for me to _not_ wait for this girl when she would do a great job and she would actually treat you with respect? What reason do you have?” The words tumble past Gold’s lips, and Silver nearly misses the subtle way his voice shakes.

He opens his mouth to answer, but Gold cuts him off.

“And Silver, if you give me that ‘I’m not real or alive so I don’t really matter’ bullshit again, I swear…”

He looks away, feeling ashamed. “Well, what about everything else?”

“Everything’ll be fine.” He sighs. “Look, if I wait, this works out for everyone. If I don’t, it works out for everyone but you, and I’m not okay with that.” Gold tugs on his sleeve, and Silver finally looks at him. “I need you to get that through your head, alright?”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods.

Gold chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t believe how badly he drilled such horrible thoughts into your head… Look, I know it’s hard for you to come to terms with the fact that now you’re around someone who doesn’t hate you. But, you need to come to terms with that. So can you just accept that I care?” he says with a light laugh.

And maybe it’s the words or the laughter or the brightness in his eyes, but the rock in his stomach disappears and he finds it in him to smile. “Thank you.”


End file.
